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UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA 



THE LIFE AND DRAMATIC 

WORKS OF ROBERT 

MONTGOMERY BIRD 



BY 
CLEMENT E. FOUST, A.M., PH.D. 

INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH, UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA 



A THESIS 

PRESENTED TO THE FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL 

IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS 

FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY 



Gbe "Knickerbocker press 

NEW YORK 
1919 






Gilt 

•versity 
SEP S 1820 






do 

MY MOTHER 

MARY COMLY FOUST 



PREFACE 

It is a matter of surprise that Robert Mont- 
gomery Bird has hitherto escaped the biographer. 
Excepting the brief mention in textbooks and 
encyclopedias, virtually nothing has been written 
of a man whose name was once well known to the 
reading public of both America and England. 
Cast into cacophonous German, one of his novels 
found its way to the continent and ran through 
successive editions. It is, of course, futile to 
deprecate the verdicts of time as it is unsafe to 
predict them. It is rather the purpose of this book 
to set forth the claims of Dr. Bird, such as they 
are, to rank among American men of letters; and 
incidentally to explore a character of great charm 
that made him loved of all that knew him. 

In consequence of the total lack of Bird Bio- 
graphy and criticism, the present writer has had 
to depend solely on first-hand sources. He was 
fortunate, through the kindness of Dr. Bird's 
relatives, in having at his disposal all the extant 
family papers, — letters, diaries, clippings, personal 
account books, rough and final drafts of novels 
and plays, and other miscellaneous documentary 
material of which there is a great abundance. 



vi PREFACE 

Of the four plays in this volume, Pelopidas, The 
Gladiator, and Oralloossa appear in print for the 
first time. The Broker of Bogota was first pub- 
lished in Prof. A. H. Quinn's recent volume, 
Representative American Plays; and although the 
present text is virtually a reprint of that, it was 
thought desirable to include the play with the 
three other chief dramatic works of Bird. In 
every case, as is stated fully elsewhere, the texts 
are based on manuscripts in the collection of Bird 
papers at the Library of the University of Penn- 
sylvania. 

It would be gratifying to mention all of the 
many kind friends who have helped or encouraged 
in the preparation of this book. But space permits 
of only brief acknowledgments. Dr. Roland G. 
Kent, of the Latin Department of the University 
of Pennsylvania, cheerfully answered a number of 
queries; Miss Jean Williams of Bristol, Pennsyl- 
vania, and Miss Dorothy Stock of Woodbury, 
New Jersey, aided me with collation and proof- 
reading; Miss Mary Mack, Mrs. Barnes, and Mr. 
Beach of the Edwin Forrest Home, joined in 
making my visits at the Home both helpful and 
enjoyable; Miss Emily Rodney and Mr. Henry 
Hanby Hay of New Castle, Delaware, hospitably 
acquaintedme with the scenes of Dr. Bird's early 
years. I take especial pleasure in acknowledging 
the aid and encouragement that were mine at the 
hands of Dr. Bird's relatives. I wish to thank 
Mrs. John Struthers, a niece of Dr. Bird, and Miss 



PREFACE vii 

Helen von L. Struthers of Philadelphia, for many 
delightful hours in their home and for the use of 
their manuscripts. To Mr. Robert Montgomery 
Bird of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, the grandson 
of the author, more is due than can be told. But 
for his exceptional kindness this volume had never 
existed. After permitting me an unrestricted use of 
his grandfather's papers, he generously presented 
them in toto to the Library of the University of 
Pennsylvania . To Prof. Felix E . Schelling, LL. D . , 
of Pennsylvania, I am indebted for much helpful 
criticism, but more for the inspiration of an ac- 
quaintanceship that all who have been his students 
must know; while Prof. Arthur H. Quinn, Dean of 
the College, not only suggested the subject as a 
thesis in American literature, but gave without 
stint of his time and experience in supervising the 
work. 

North Wales, Pa., 
June, 1918. 

Clement E. Foust. 



CONTENTS 



PACK 

Preface ....... v 



PART I 
LIFE 

MAPTER 

I. — Birth and Parentage 
II. — Education 



III. — Apprenticeship and First Success 
"The Gladiator" 

IV. — Forrest and the Later Plays 

V. — A Prolific Novelist 

VI. — Marriage, Farming, Teaching, and 
Politics .... 

VII. — Journalism . . . 

VIII.— Last Days .... 

Appendices .... 

Bibliographical Note 



i 
13 

28 

50 
76 

108 
130 

144 
161 
165 



CONTENTS 
PART II 
DRAMATIC WORKS 
Pelopidas 
The Gladiator 
Oralloossa 

The Broker of Bogota 
Index 



171 
297 
441 
577 
723 



The Life and Dramatic Works 

of 
Robert Montgomery Bird 



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The 

Life and Dramatic Works of 

Robert Montgomery Bird 



CHAPTER I 

BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 

Robert Montgomery Bird was born February 
5, 1806, at New Castle, Delaware. 1 He was the 
son of John and Elizabeth Van Leuvenigh Bird, 
the sixth of seven children. Both parents came 
of large and stable families that had lived on 
their Delaware lands for generations. They had 
owned farms, married well, worthily served their 
communities, and were reliable, upright people. 
From them Dr. Bird received a rich inheritance 
of character and health. 

The Birds trace their lineage to an old English 
family from Cheshire, whither originally they came 
from Ireland. John Bird, one of its members, 
won eminence in the time of Henry VIII. He was 

1 The house in which he was born, now numbered 216, is still 
to be seen on Delaware Street facing the old "green" or market 
place. 

1 



2 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

sent by the King, with the royal almoner and a 
clerk of the council, to the divorced Queen, Cath- 
erine of Aragon, to induce her to forbear the name 
of Queen, "which nevertheless she would not do," 
the documents expressly phrase it. He was suc- 
cessively bishop of Penrith, bishop of Bangor, and 
in 1541 first bishop of Chester. At the Restoration, 
a family tradition avers, two brothers of the name, 
members of Parliament, voted against King Charles 
with the result that one lost his head, leaving a 
widow and children in England. The other was 
banished to America, where his son supposedly 
began the family line. Certain it is that Thomas 
Bird settled in Delaware about 1700 and bought 
large tracts of land along the Red Clay Creek and 
in Christiana Hundred. x All that is known of 
Thomas Bird declares him a man of worth and 
honor, a leader in his community. He married 
Sarah Empson, daughter of Cornelius Empson, a 
judge of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, and 
died leaving six sons and four daughters. These 
and their children added to farms, already great, 
land in that loveliest county of Delaware, Brandy - 

1 In 1 7 13 Thomas Bird bought one hundred acres on the eastern 
side of Red Clay Creek, New Castle County; in 17 19 four hun- 
dred acres more "cleared by purchase"; and later 184 acres in 
Christiana Hundred. For the original survey see the Taylor 
Papers, New Castle County Warrants and Surveys, in the archives 
of the Pennsylvania Historical Society, Philadelphia. In the 
main my account of the Bird and Van Leuvenigh families is based 
on genealogical tables owned by Mrs. John Struthers of Phila- 
delphia, a niece of Dr. Bird. 



BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 3 

wine Hundred, and passed their quiet lives upon 
its rolling uplands. Their bones rest in the quaint 
graveyard of Old Swedes Church, Wilmington. 1 
John Bird 3d, great-grandson of Thomas and 
father of Robert Montgomery, was born in Brandy- 
wine Hundred, April 25, 1769, and was a man of 
wide interests and varied ability. Although 
associated with James Riddle, ship-chandler, at 
New Castle, he filled numerous public appoint- 
ments and offices. In 1797 he was one of the 
State's commissioners to fix the boundaries of New 
Castle, and helped to survey the town, assess the 
properties, and list the residents. In 1801 the 
New Castle Academy was incorporated and John 
Bird made a trustee. In 1 802 he was elected to the 
Senate of Delaware, and from 1804 to 1809 served 
as a State representative. He married, February, 
1795, Elizabeth Van Leuvenigh, and died at New 
Castle, April 12, 1810, leaving six sons and a 
daughter. Plainly John Bird lived a life, though 
short in years, uncommonly rich and full; a 
prompt man of affairs, a pioneer in his home town, 
who had helped to organize its institutions and 
incorporate its citizenry. It is of more significance 
in the light of his son's accomplishment, to note 
that he was also a man of genuine literary interests. 
He was a reading man, and knew and loved the 
masterpieces. It is especially worthy of note that 

1 John Bird 1st, son of Thomas, was born in 1705 and died 
in 1754. John Bird 2d, grandson of Thomas, and grandfather 
of Dr. Bird, was born in 1738 and died in 1776. 



4 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

he left a manuscript book of verse that he himself 
composed. 

The mother's stock exhibits in like degree char- 
acter and sturdy worth. God-fearing, honorable, 
and industrious, they early became influential and 
rich. From about 1700, also, it seems, this family 
had resided in Delaware, for within a year of that 
date Hendrick Van Leuvenigh, of Amsterdam, 
left Holland, sailed to America, and settled in 
Appoquinimink Hundred, New Castle County. 
Here on a tract of two hundred and twenty-five 
acres, which he named "Black Walnut Landing," 
he lived until about 1716, leaving three sons as his 
issue, John, Henry, and Philip. Zachariah Van 
Leuvenigh, son of John and grandfather of Dr. 
Bird, was one of the foremost citizens of New 
Castle. He numbered among his friends George 
Read, Thomas McKean, a signer of the Declara- 
tion of Independence, Chief Justice McWilliams, 
Judge Finney, and Governor Van Dyke. In 1756 
he was commissioned an ensign of the "Upper 
Regiment of New Castle County," raised for ser- 
vice in the French and Indian War. In 1761 his 
name was affixed as one of the ' ' Principal Inhabi- 
tants" of the county to a proclamation of alle- 
giance sent by the Deputy Governor and Council 
of Pennsylvania to King George III. of England. 
After the battle of Lexington, on April 19, 1775, 
mounted messengers were sent throughout the 
colonies to spread the news of victory. At New 
Castle Zachariah Van Leuvenigh and Stephen 



BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 5 

Spencer in behalf of the town received the missive, 
indorsed it as proof of delivery, and sent it on its 
way to the South. He married Ann Armitage, 
daughter of Hon. James Armitage, May 27, 1755. 
Both lie buried in the yard of old Immanuel 
Church at New Castle, where throughout their 
lives they were members. Of their children, Mary 
married Nicholas Van Dyke, who was to count so 
much in shaping the career of young Bird; and 
Elizabeth, successively, John Bird 3d and the 
Rev. Samuel Barr. 

It is worth our while to examine this heritage of 
Dr. Bird. Clearly there was nothing unusual 
about it, except perhaps the uniformity with which 
they possessed the fundamentals — piety, enlighten- 
ment, stability, and health. John and Elizabeth 
Bird were of a stock of people who seldom left 
their names in history or even figured in the news- 
papers, but who passed quiet, fruitful lives in the 
daily round of duties that lay next them. For 
generations they had prospered and were well-to- 
do. On both sides they had supplied their share 
of leading citizens who struck deep roots in local 
affairs. Socially, they were a conservative peo- 
ple ; physically — at least this was true of the Birds 
— they were of the race of Anek, tall and strong 
of frame ; and intellectually, as we have seen, alert, 
steady, versatile, and in one case at least pos- 
sessed with definitely literary tastes. John Bird, 
the father of Dr. Bird, found time in a crowded 
life of affairs to read, and even to write verse. 



6 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

But the blessing of a father's guidance Robert 
Montgomery Bird was not long to enjoy. In the 
early months of the year 1810 the firm of Bird & 
Riddle, government navy agents, met with sudden 
and calamitous reverses ending in bankruptcy 
and a total loss of the fortunes of both partners. 
In consequence, on April 12, 18 10, John Bird 
suddenly died of an aneurism of the heart, leaving 
penniless a wife and seven children. The con- 
sequences of a calamity so overwhelming can be 
easily surmised. The immediate effect was to 
disperse the family, which was never reunited. 
The older boys were obliged to go where necessity 
led them. Mrs. Bird, with her youngest son, 
Henry, moved to humbler quarters in New Castle, 
and later occupied for months at a time "The 
Hermitage," a lovely countryseat of the Van Dykes 
still to be seen a quarter of a mile west of New 
Castle. Hers was no easy task. The War of 18 12 
was threatening and times were hard; besides in 
those days few employments were open to women, 
even to those of education. But a strength of 
spirit, born of hardship and affection, enabled her 
to provide for those who were still dependent upon 
her until her marriage in 181 5 with the man who 
twenty years before had blessed her first union, 
the Rev. Samuel Barr. Robert Montgomery 
Bird, then four years old, went into the home of his 
uncle, the Hon. Nicholas Van Dyke of New Castle. 

In his new surroundings, young Bird was very 
far from unfortunate. The Van Dyke family 



BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 7 

was one of the oldest, ablest, and stateliest in 
Delaware. Nicholas Van Dyke, senior, had been 
a member of the Council of Safety in 1776, had 
helped to frame the Constitution of Delaware, and 
was President of the State from 1783 to 1786. His 
son, with whom Bird now made his home, was simi- 
larly a man of note. Educated at Nassau Hall, 
he early won distinction at the bar, had served his 
State in its legislature, and was successively a 
member of the House and the Senate at Washing- 
ton in 1809 and 181 7. General Lafayette counted 
him "one of the first statesmen in rank whom he 
knew in America." He was a man of stern in- 
tegrity, with views on education and religion that 
bordered on the severe. A jurist and a statesman 
of large experience, he was probably, too, an elo- 
quent and incisive talker. And what of the guests 
that came to dine or spend the night? Many 
must have been the lawyers and men of affairs who 
dropped in frequently in busy talk about state 
matters. To an alert, docile boy like Bird such 
association must have been most powerfully 
stimulating and directive. In any case he now 
acquired a habit of industry and a love of reading 
that lasted throughout his life. His character, too, 
was confirmed in the ways of honor. Mr. Van 
Dyke being a ruling elder and an active member of 
the Presbyterian Church, it may be supposed that 
Bird, with the rest of the family, was brought up 
strictly to habits of church attendance. 

Nor was his new environment either bleak or 



8 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

colorless. Dorcas Van Dyke, a pretty, sympa- 
thetic girl of his own years, became his confidante 
and advocate and from the comradeship there 
flowed to each a permanently ennobling influence. 
Her character, years afterward, he lovingly set 
forth in Nanna Howard, in The Adventures of 
Robin Day. The account depicts, of course, a 
later stage of their friendship, which, however, had 
its beginnings at this time. 1 "The development 
of her faculties," runs the narrative, "her rapid 
advance in beauty, grace, sweetness of disposition, 
— in everything that could warm the heart and 
influence the pride of a doting father were indeed 
surprising ; and at the time of which I speak — that 
is when I had reached what was supposed to be 
the verge of my eighteenth year — she was a 
creature, being nearly fifteen years old, whom no 
one could look upon without interest or imagina- 
tion. She was the loveliest of creatures; and I, 
who had grown to regard her and to call her a 
sister, was as proud of her beauty as was my pa- 
tron, her father himself. ... It could not be 
otherwise than that such a being with whom my 
daily and hourly intercourse was that of a brother, 
should sooner or later exercise a strong and happy 
influence, even without knowing it herself, over 
both my manners and my feelings ; and it is to the 

1 Chapter IX. According to Dr. Bird's wife, Mrs. Mary Bird, 
The Adventures of Robin Day is autobiographical in several chap- 
ters, especially those narrating the youth and education of Robin 
Day. 



BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 9 

commencement of that influence, more than to the 
remonstrance of my patron, that I date the first 
improvement in both. So true is it that the silent, 
and even unsuspected influence of woman sways 
the heart more strongly to virtue and manliness 
than the wisest admonitions of the sages. " When 
she was married years afterward on Oct. 6, 1824, 
to Charles Irenee Du Pont, Lafayette, then visit- 
ing America, graciously honored the occasion with 
his presence, occupying an elevated seat, where 
through doors and windows kept open for the 
purpose, the citizens of New Castle viewed both 
him and the ceremony. r 

From these early years Bird gave hints of rich 
promise, and yet he was not abnormal or eccentric. 
He had what has been termed a ' ' successful child- 
hood, " going the rounds of fun and mishap eagerly, 
honestly, and pugnaciously. His wife's account 
describes him as a spirited, exuberant boy, with 
even more than the usual push of youth, a leader 
at cricket, a lover of adventure, and a crack at a 
bout or a tussle. 2 Once with another young ex- 
plorer, it seems, he barely missed drowning on a 
drifting ice floe in a bight of the Delaware off New 
Castle. The scenes of the Brandy wine, near which 
Mrs. Bird lived for a time, lay at hand rich in 

1 American Historical Register, vol. iii., p. 634. 

2 Mrs. Bird left a manuscript sketch of her husband's life 
numbering eighty-odd pages, presented with the Bird Papers to 
the Library of the University of Pennsylvania by the grandson 
of Dr. Bird, Mr. Robert M. Bird, of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. 



io LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

historic beauty; while the ruins of the old Dutch 
town, New Amstel, supplied him with endless 
tales of ghosts and haunted houses. Here was a 
life in the open, not dull enough to stifle, yet health- 
fully free from the rush and irritation of a city. 
Unlike the ordinary boy, Bird was extremely 
imaginative and acutely sensitive. His imagina- 
tion, his wife relates, was the source of peculiar 
enjoyment. His greatest pleasure was to steal 
from all and stretch full length in his uncle's 
garden and give full rein to that imagination 
which had already begun to assert its supremacy. 
This faculty, discovered and cherished in secret, 
became the source of his most exquisite enjoyment. 
He had been often heard to say that no actual 
scenes displayed before his physical eyes were more 
distinct, more detailed, or better remembered. 
The Van Dyke home stood at the corner of Dela- 
ware and Orange streets, New Castle, and had in 
the rear a deep, narrow garden with arbored walks 
and flower plots. Hither he often stole to read 
again and again with the sharp zest of childhood 
books of adventure, travel, and history. To a 
mind so swiftly absorptive as his, who can assess 
the nutritive- value of such reading ? 

There was much, besides, in the old town of 
New Castle itself to stir and quicken a nature fond 
of romance. Had there actually been a choice of 
environment, one could scarcely have been found 
richer in history and tradition. "Like Salem 
in New England and Charleston in the South," 



BIRTH AND PARENTAGE n 

New Castle has always had a flavor and distinction. 
In colonial days it was a seat of wealth and cul- 
tivation ; there dwelt the first families of Delaware, 
— the Johns, the Van Dykes, the Armitages, the 
Stocktons, the Rodneys, and the Reads. Since 
then its position off the main lines of traffic and the 
swift growth of Wilmington have shut it off from 
the commercializing effects of trades and industries. 
In consequence it has kept to a degree the mellow 
charm of early times. Nor is its past without its 
stirring scenes. Near its site stood Fort Casimir, 
built in 1 63 1 by the Dutch, who shortly after 
built the town of New Amstel, captured in 1664 
by the English and renamed New Castle. At its 
quaint court-house William Penn, upon landing in 
America, October 28, 1682, received from the Duke 
of York's Commissioners the symbols of ownership, 
a key of the fort, some water, some turf, and a 
twig. Under its main girders are heavy timber 
pillars upon which in olden days the hands of man- 
slaughterers were placed while the sizzling iron 
branded them with the letters M. S. A. "until the 
fumes filled the room. " As a port of entry and a 
station on the old stage route between Philadelphia 
and Baltimore, New Castle has seen many men of 
prominence. Here Washington, supposedly, and 
Lafayette attended notable weddings. Black 
Hawk and Jackson have walked its streets, adding 
each his cluster to the town's traditions. Archi- 
tecturally the town has long been of interest. 
Nowhere in America can be found finer types of 



12 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

the old colonial home. The stately entrances 
and hallways, the plain lintels cut like flat arches 
and set flush with the wall, the beautifully turned 
bannisters, and secret panels must all have shed 
upon the sensitive mind of young Bird a pervasively 
gracious influence. New Castle is a river town, 
and from the windows of houses along the strand 
could be seen on a level expanse of the Delaware, 
steamers and freighters plying their silent ways, 
as could those of the Dutch, the Swedes, and the 
English in days of long ago. In such surroundings, 
then, mellow with tradition and romance, Robert 
Montgomery Bird dreamed the dreams of boyhood 
and saw the "visions of grandeur" which pleas- 
antly lingered with him through all the years of 
manhood. 



CHAPTER II 

EDUCATION 

The only school in New Castle during Bird's 
boyhood was New Castle Academy. The original 
building is still a picturesque sight on the old 
public green next to Immanuel Church. Although 
enlarged and modernized, it remains untouched in 
its main lines— a rectangular structure of brick 
with numerous windows, a central hall opening on 
the walled yard behind, a quaint, divided stairway, 
and neat sunshiny classrooms. From its incor- 
poration in 1 80 1 John Bird had been a trustee, 
and hither young Bird was sent for his elementary 
schooling. 

The methods of instruction at New Castle 
Academy during Bird's attendance were singularly 
crude and galling, and were an experience he 
never forgot. In later years he frequently spoke 
of the severity of this early schooling. The first 
aim of the teacher, it seems, was to break the 
spirit of his charges. A sympathetic sharing of 
interests and the profit that comes of pleasure were 
plainly things unknown. The result was a stand- 
ing challenge on the part of the pedagogue, and a 

13 



14 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

series of organized revolts on the part of the 
school. Though shy and docile to a degree, and 
of a type of mind that would have drawn nutri- 
ment from the plainest fare, young Bird came in 
for an inordinate share of "correction." Hardly 
a day passed, his wife asserts, without its bitter 
tally on his knuckles or his back. In some in- 
stances, it seems, this punishment amounted to 
downright assault. The effect on the sensitive 
nature of Bird was a feeling of abhorrence so deep 
that one day he took an oath, on bended knee, runs 
the record, "to kill his pursuer as soon as he was 
old and strong enough to do so. " This threat he 
never executed, but he paid the score as unfor- 
givably by conferring on the bully immortality. 
In The Adventures of Robin Day he has preserved 
M'Goggin and his ways with suitable embellish- 
ments, for those who care to read. The account 
also vividly depicts Bird's first school days. "The 
trustees succeeded in engaging the services of a 
person who, I verily believe, was procured for the 
sole purpose of testing the efficacy of the brutum 
fulmen, of subjugating us by main force; for he 
was an illiterate, vulgar dolt, an Irishman just 
caught, who professed, as he said himself, to teach 
nothing but 'r'ading, writin', 'rithmetic, and 
dacent manners'; although in other respects the 
very man the trustees wanted. His name was 
M'Goggin. He was six feet high, and limbed and 
shouldered like a Hercules; and indeed of such 
strength and activity, that had he been set at the 



EDUCATION 15 

business for which he was best qualified, that is 
canal digging, I have no doubt he would have cut 
through the Isthmus of Panama in a month with- 
out any assistance. He had an ugly look, too, 
about the eyes, which besides being the color of a 
cat's, were overshadowed by a pair of brows of such 
bigness and appearance that they looked like two 
stuffed ratskins stuck on with glue; and his com- 
plexion was of the hue of sole-leather, plentifully 
besprinkled with freckles of the size of half-dimes. 
To add to his demerits, he was entirely incapable 
of fear, and had such a natural love of a row, that, 
when informed by the trustees of our character 
and doings ... he rubbed his hands with 
satisfaction, and declared we were 'swate little 
devils' and that we should get along very well 
together." 

This stage of Bird's career abruptly closed one 
day when he was found by his uncle, Mr. Van 
Dyke, in the hands of his sympathizing cousin, who 
was dressing a bruised and lacerated back. He 
was immediately withdrawn from school and for 
a time allowed to read and ramble as he liked. He 
enjoyed a freedom, it seems, that our disciplina- 
rians would have probably called neglect, and yet 
what a wise neglect! It was a chance to grow 
spontaneously. In any case, for a boy of Bird's 
type, aimless play is often the richest pre-expe- 
rience. His interests, free and unconstrained, are 
in consequence real and vital. The imagination 
expands to the new freedom, and self -education, 



16 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

which for the gifted is the best education, begins. 
Thus it was with Bird. Blighting as the effects 
of the Academy were, reading had become a 
passion. In 1812 the New Castle Library Com- 
pany was chartered, and here he obtained books 
of history, romance, and adventure, reading and 
re-reading with a zest that must have made them 
richly nutritive. Now, too, though a boy of but 
ten or twelve, he began to play with verse and 
actually finished, according to his wife, a long poem 
which he hid, but which the tantalizing Dorcas 
unearthed and read with a flourish to the Van 
Dyke family. The experience, though it stirred 
the mirth of Dr. Bird years after, gave pain at the 
time, and somewhat dashed his ardor. It may 
possibly have contributed to a distaste to be known 
as a poet that lasted throughout his life ; for these 
early smarts to a nature so acutely sensitive 
were sharp and long remembered. But pleasur- 
able to a degree he never forgot were his rambles 
through the historic scenes of the Brandywine and 
the ruins of New Amstel, where the yellow brick 
and coins of Holland were still occasionally picked 
up. Here dwelt a double charm — the beauty of a 
smiling country rich in a storied past. And no 
doubt, too, these frequent jaunts helped to give 
the large-framed, fair-haired boy that stock of 
bodily health which brought him at maturity an 
astounding capacity for incessant toil. 

Meanwhile, on May 31, 181 8, the Reverend 
Samuel Barr died and Bird's mother removed to 



EDUCATION 17 

Philadelphia, where she lived with an older son, 
James Madison Bird. In the year 1820 Robert 
Montgomery Bird joined them, although still 
under the guardianship of the Honorable Nicholas 
Van Dyke, as the following letter shows: 

New Castle, June 5, 1820. 

Dear Nephew: 

I should have written to you sooner but ex- 
pected to go to Philadelphia and converse with 
you about your brother R. M. Bird. The 
situation of my family has prevented me from 
leaving home and at present I see no prospect 
of being at liberty shortly. 

As your mother urged so irresistibly her claim 
to have Montgomery with her, it has been yielded 
to under the assurance and confidence that he 
will be under your particular care and direction, 
and if on any account you discover your direc- 
tions are not attended to it will be your duty 
without reserve immediately to inform me that 
I as standing in the place of his parent may do 
what my judgment and regard to his welfare 
may require. 

It is essential that he be kept constantly at 
school and that his growing habit of morning 
indulgence be at once corrected that he may 
receive the benefit of his school. His education 
was at first calculated for a profession to which he 
always expressed an inclination until I fear too 
much indulgence last summer suffered his exer- 
tions in study to languish and his ideas changed 
and I was pained to learn from his mother that 
he could not pursue a profession, but would 
prefer, some other business. 



1 8 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

The intelligence changed entirely my course 
and since that time he has been employed at 
English School. But his attainments I find are 
yet far below my wishes even for the mechanical 
business and I therefore direct that he be placed 
at some good school to be taught again, arith- 
metic, geography and some branches of mathe- 
matics with English grammar and writing. He 
should also be occasionally exercised in spelling 
as every scholar should be an adept in that part 
of education. As his father was an Episcopalian 
you must have him taught the church catechism 
and I particularly request that he may attend 
some place of worship on the Sabbath. No ex- 
cuse is to be received for his being out late in 
the evenings, for bad company which is the bane 
of youth is almost entirely formed in such a 
habit. Much instruction and improvement may 
be derived by reading in the evenings and I 
hope his taste in that amusement will be cul- 
tivated. As I am not authorized to indulge in 
any extravagance as to dress, I request that the 
utmost economy be consulted in furnishing his 
supplies, good plain clothes being all that boys 
require. 

In giving you these instructions I hope for 
your special attention to the interest of your 
brother and I shall be much gratified if you can 
make any arrangement for assuming the duty 
which is now imposed on your uncle. 

Ns. Van Dyke. 

To Mr. James Bird. 

This letter throws an interesting light on the 
boy's life at the time. He was apparently living 
with his mother and a twenty- three-year-old 



EDUCATION 19 

brother, James Madison Bird, but was still under 
the guardianship of Nicholas Van Dyke, a man, 
it is pretty plain, who would have no nonsense. 
It seems, too, that he was addressed commonly as 
Montgomery, or as it occurs elsewhere, ' ' Monte ' ' 
Bird. One's sympathy instinctively goes out to 
the lad who found early rising a bit irksome. 
Hard afternoons at cricket and a growing boy of 
fourteen are circumstances that readily account for 
the fact, and a neglect of geography and spelling 
as well. He was to be kept in at nights ; dressed in 
plain clothes, but good; and confirmed in the 
church of his father, the Episcopalian. 

In Philadelphia young Bird enrolled in a school 
kept by a Mr. Pardon Davis, and again, it seems, 
without serious intellectual damage. The teach- 
er's name, according to his wife, was the only last- 
ing impression. But it was very different with the 
drawing-school he attended in the neighborhood of 
Fourth and Chestnut Streets, under the manage- 
ment of a Mr. Coxe. Jemmy Coxe, as he was 
affectionately known, apparently had the gift, 
priceless to a teacher, of making his students share 
his enthusiasm. He had a sharp eye for their hid- 
den strength and idiosyncracies and encouraged 
them to develop naturally along their line of 
talent. A genuine lover of boys, he invited them 
on Saturday afternoons to his home, regaled them 
with endless yarns, and allowed them to rummage 
his cases of curios, picked up from land and sea. 
That Montgomery was a golden child he quickly 



20 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

perceived and counted him a favorite. He took 
him on sketching tours and allowed him assign- 
ments beyond his strength in order to stir his 
effort. Under this instruction Bird gained a 
facility with the pencil he employed throughout 
his life. A number of plain and colored sketches 
dating from this time are extant that exhibit to 
a degree accuracy, boldness, and smoothness of 
workmanship. 

Within a year, however, Bird left Philadelphia, 
returned to New Castle, and again enrolled at the 
Academy with the aim of preparing for college. 
Of his progress no reports remain, but two old 
manuscripts in his boyish hand richly deserve 
mention. One of them is a composition book, 
written, from the allusions it contains, while he 
was yet living in New Castle. It comprises five 
short themes on various subjects — "Effects of 
the Late Storm," "The Bell of Justice," "The 
Life of My Puss," "Anecdotes of the Grecian 
Philosophers," "Anecdotes of the Roman Em- 
perors. ' ' There is an Indian story in six parts called 
"The Whitewashed Cottage of the Susquehanna." 
Although plainly the work of childhood, there is 
about this work an ease, accuracy, and invention 
that bespeak the natural gift. There is evidently 
an inward delight in the thing, and a directness of 
phrase that is inevitable. The other manuscript is 
a " Rhetoric" signed "Robert M. Bird, New Castle, 
Del. A.D. 1822, " and is a compendium of the sub- 
ject abstracted from books or lectures. Bird's 



EDUCATION 21 

schooling in the use of language, such as it was, was 
surely not without its value, and its effects may 
possibly be found by the ingenious in the effective 
descriptions of Calavar and The Infidel. But 
more enrichment must have come from the pranks 
and frolics of boyhood and his frank intercourse 
with many men and things. In the play of a 
creatively observant mind upon men in action lies 
the writer's chief equipment. Life is his diction- 
ary and grammar as well. There it is he finds his 
phrases — in the sports, in the trades and crafts, 
in the arts and sciences, in the work yard, and the 
mill. And young Bird, who was so keen a partici- 
pant in the life about him, must have early ab- 
sorbed an abundance of such nutriment. 

In the meanwhile it was settled that Bird 
should enter a profession; which one was still 
undetermined. In any case a course at college 
was imperative and to prepare he moved to Ger- 
man town in 1823 to attend the German town 
Academy. In 1820 German town Academy had 
entered a period of growth up to that date un- 
matched in its history. In October of that year 
John M. Brewer, a graduate of Harvard in the class 
of 1804, was elected principal at a salary of twelve 
hundred dollars a year. In return for this, the 
largest salary the Academy had yet paid, Brewer 
' ' engaged to take upon himself the moral govern- 
ment of the pupils as well in the hour of relaxation 
as in those devoted to study. " He introduced a 
system of rules "based upon the laws which 



22 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

govern Harvard College in Cambridge, " conspicu- 
ous among which were the stress put upon a study 
of the Scriptures, Sunday attendance at worship, 
and the public examinations and exhibitions held 
during the terms. In 1820 there were thirteen 
students in the upper school and forty-two in the 
English school. In 182 1 Brewer was succeeded by 
Walter R. Johnson, who more than any teacher 
Bird had, helped to shape his aims and character; 
and it may be added, became a lifelong friend. 
Also a graduate of Harvard, Johnson had taught 
school at Farmingham and Salem, Massachusetts, 
before coming to German town, where he became 
a progressive in educational reform. He led the 
cause of higher schools in Pennsylvania, wrote 
numerous articles on the establishment of normal 
schools, and brought about in large part the 
Pennsylvania School Law of 1834. He was later 
associated with Bird on the faculty of the Penn- 
sylvania Medical College, and at his death in 1852 
was Chemist of the Smithsonian Institution. J 

Walter Johnson was just the teacher for a boy — 
keen, virile, enthusiastic— and under his direction 
Bird made swift advancement. Within a year of 
entrance he was given the following certificate, 
written by Johnson himself, in a frank hand and 
old-fashioned spelling : 

Academy at German town, Aug. 12, 1824. This 
certifies that Robert Montgomery Bird of New 

1 A History of the Germantown Academy, Philadelphia, 19 10, 
chapter xi. 



EDUCATION 23 

Castle in the State of Delaware has been for 
one year under my instruction as a student in 
this Academy and that during this period he has 
attended to the following branches of study viz : 
of the Latin Classicks Horace and Cicero de 
Republica; of Greek Classicks, Graeca Minora 
and Homer's Iliad; Mathematics, Euler's Alge- 
bra and Legendre's Geometry; Elements of 
Logick ; Stewarts Philosophy of Mind ; Elements 
of Chemistry ; English Composition in prose and 
verse and translations into Greek and Latin 
Languages. His general deportment has been 
correct and exemplary, his habits of study unex- 
ceptionable and he this day leaves the institu- 
tion with a distinguished literary rank among his 
fellow-students. 

Walter R. Johnson, Principal. 1 

This "distinguished literary rank" Bird de- 
served in no merely academic sense, for he was 
already placing his verse in local periodicals. A 
poem is said to have been written, his wife states, 
"at the age of seventeen and Dr. Black has seen 
verses in a newspaper when he was about twenty 
that he acknowledged to be his. By comparison 
of the manuscript with letters it is probable some 
of the pieces published afterward in Snowden's 
New Monthly Magazine were written at this early 
date, for his handwriting was very inferior to what 
it became some years later when it obtained the 
character that distinguished it. " 

1 See the Bird Papers, Library of the University of Pennsyl- 
vania. 



24 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

During the year at German town Bird had settled 
the matter of a career and chosen medicine. 
Accordingly, in August of 1824, he removed to 
Philadelphia and took rooms with a Mrs. Allen, 
Number 62 South Sixth Street. Here, it chanced, 
a young student from Kentucky by the name of 
Black had also taken quarters. Of like profession 
and tastes, an enriching intimacy formed that 
lasted throughout their lives. Years after, in 
March of 1854, Dr. Black thus described to Mrs. 
Bird his friend's appearance at the time. "R. 
M. Bird was then eighteen. His appearance was 
very prepossessing. He was tall, slender, very 
fair and youthful looking, and had a Byronic cast 
of countenance. He had written a good deal of 
poetry and some verses he [Black] saw that had 
been published a year before without his name." 
The summer of 1824 found Bird with a number of 
other young students in the office of Dr. Joseph 
Parrish, the well-known Quaker physician and 
friend of Whittier, who launched on their career 
so many young doctors of the day. He also en- 
tered a druggist shop for further practical drill. 
In the fall of 1824 Bird matriculated in the Medical 
School of the University of Pennsylvania and at 
the College of Pharmacy. The preservation of all 
his course cards enables us to track him through 
his entire course under Dr. John Redman Coxe 
in Materia Medica, Dr. Philip Syng Physick and 
Dean Horner in Anatomy, Dr. Robert Hare in 
Chemistry, Drs. William Gibson and George 



EDUCATION 25 

McClellan in Surgery, Drs. James and Dewees in 
Midwifery, and Dr. Chapman in Clinical Practice. 
It was while a matriculate at the University 
that Bird may be said to have begun his career of 
authorship. Doing most easily what he did best, 
he compassed, in addition to the work of the course, 
a surprising amount of reading and writing. Two 
large quarto books dated 1826 and 1827 attest the 
range and thoroughness of his reading. In them 
are copious quotations and summaries from the 
works of some twenty-five Latin, English, and 
American writers. A striking line or favorite 
verse he copied off; while the plays, chiefly Eliza- 
bethan, he summarized and reviewed. He was 
very frank in criticism where he thought criticism 
was due. The Maid's Tragedy, of Beaumont and 
Fletcher, for instance, he thinks "ill-digested and 
unsatisfactory. The characters are insufficiently 
developed; the incidents made little of; and 
the sentiments carelessly and tamely expressed. 
Everything wants point ; nothing is made the most 
of; and despite the commendations of the editors, 
I look upon this play as highly defective, neglect- 
fully written, and, in general, inferior to most of 
Massinger's plays." Philaster, he considers "in 
many respects a very excellent play." Of The 
Beggar's Bush he says, "This is a busy plot, and 
well managed — though not half so well as it de- 
serves. There are few striking scenes, a poor, 
tame, and neglected Dialogue. There is something 
comical in the beggar's election, and the speech of 



26 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

their orator, Aiggen, and of Bigg, a candidate, who 
promises to be a tyrant if they choose him. " And 
so he goes on with twenty-four other Elizabethan 
plays. Besides this reading he was also planning 
works of his own. In the earlier book of 1826 I 
find a list of fifteen subjects for short poems, of 
which at least two, Saul's Last Day and The Death 
of Meleager, were completed by 1827 and published 
in November and December of that year, with 
other of his verse, in The Philadelphia Monthly 
Magazine. A total of seven poems appeared in the 
same periodical within three months, October, 
November, and December. A manuscript tragedy 
in five acts, entitled The Cowled Lover, is dated 
June, 1827; another, Caridorf, or The Avenger, 
August, 1827. To this year also belongs a manu- 
script comedy, with its scene in Philadelphia, en- 
titled News of the Night; an incomplete domestic 
comedy, 'Twas All for the Best; and possibly other 
fragments. A consideration of these plays will be 
given along with that of his other apprentice work. 
Deserving mention, too, are Bird's student 
friendships, for with them his earlier novels have 
a close concern. Through Dr. Black, Bird met 
another young Kentuckian by the name of John 
Grimes, who was an enthusiastic student of art. 
The three took together many jaunts, challenged 
each other's views, and shared friendly rivalries. 
On one of these walks along the Wissahickon, 
according to Mrs. Bird, Dr. Black related a 
Kentucky story the power of which greatly struck 



EDUCATION 27 

Bird. He noted it, visited the scene on his trips 
west, and later used it as the basis of his romance, 
Nick of the Woods. Twice he made visits to the 
Delaware Water Gap, the second time in June of 
1827 with Black and Grimes. Here they camped, 
rambled, and sketched. Among the friends they 
made was a young artist of the day by the name of 
Birch, and between them all a friendly sketching 
bout ensued. This region and these episodes he 
incorporated in his novel, The Hawks of Hawk's 
Hollow. 

On April 6, 1827, the Medical School of the 
University of Pennsylvania graduated a class of 
131 in Musical Fund Hall, Philadelphia. Among 
them was Robert Montgomery Bird of the State 
of Delaware, who wrote for a thesis a treatise 
on consumption entitled Phthisis Pulmonalis. A 
minute study of its contents belongs to the history 
of medicine, not of literature. That Bird should 
have shared the superstitions of his time is to be 
expected, and, in this respect, he is neither better 
nor worse than his age. 



CHAPTER III 

apprenticeship and first success, "the 
gladiator" 

After graduation Dr. Bird at once set up as a 
practitioner and opened an office on Thirteenth 
Street above Pine, Philadelphia. In those days 
this section was more rural and open than now, and 
from his office he could see directly opposite the 
Deaf and Dumb Asylum on Broad Street, since 
made a school of Industrial Art. Dr. Bird, we are 
told, soon won a practice that would have brought 
him early success, but from the first the physician's 
life irked him. He disliked its narrowed interests. 
The constant sight of disease and pain he could not 
always aid, rasped his sympathies. Besides, he 
had convictions — absurd he at times acknowledged 
himself — on the subject of fees; to take them, he 
felt, was to sell his humanity. Accordingly he 
kept no case-book, refused to charge, and gave 
away drugs. But more urgent than all was his 
call to the profession of letters, which had already 
usurped his chief ambitions. In consequence 
within a year he closed his office and relinquished 
the practice of medicine, which he never resumed, 

28 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 29 

although he became in later life a prominent 
teacher and lecturer. ' 

It is of interest to review the prospects of a 
professional litterateur, and of the professional 
dramatist in particular, at the time Bird embraced 
the career, that is, about 1825. Certainly for a 
young man of twenty-two without large private 
means, the step meant heavy risks. Letters as a 
profession, it is to be remembered, was just strug- 
gling into existence, hampered on the one hand by 
inadequate copyright laws, and on the other by an 
apathy on the part of the public generally toward 
American authorship. It is well known how the 
absence of international copyright worked hard- 
ship on writers both at home and abroad. Amer- 
ican books were pirated in England, English books 
in America ; and were sold at the cheapest possible 
rates because their authors had not been paid. 
The disadvantage to the American writer was the 
greater because of the prestige of English author- 
ship. "When American readers," says Brander 
Matthews, "could get a novel of Scott's or of 
Dickens's for a quarter they felt less inclined to 
pay a dollar for a novel of Cooper's or Hawthorne's. 
And the same premium of cheapness tended to 
increase the sale of Tennyson and to decrease the 
sale of Longfellow and of Poe. The British author 
had at least his home market, whereas the Amer- 
ican author found his home market pre-empted by 

1 See MS. Life of Dr. Bird by his wife, Bird Papers, Library of 
University of Pennsylvania. 



30 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

the foreigner." In consequence, men of letters 
generally were forced to supplementary means of 
a livelihood ; Longfellow and Lowell to teaching, 
Emerson to lecturing, and Hawthorne to public 
service. Besides, American authors were by no 
means received at home as they deserved. There 
was a servility to English opinion on the part of 
the critics and especially of the cultivated element 
that read. Among the latter was a class that 
judged it a reflection on their tastes to give to 
native productions a warm approval. The foreign 
stamp was almost the only means of giving to a 
book a more than merely local currency. Emerson 
wrote in his Journal, June 18, 1834, "We lean on 
England ; scarce a verse, a page, a newspaper, but 
is writ in imitation of English forms; our very 
manners and conversation are traditional, and 
sometimes the life seems dying out of all literature, 
and this enormous paper currency of Words is 
accepted instead." In the words of Professor 
Lounsbury, we had become "a race of literary 
cowards and parasites. "' 

For the playwright these obstacles presented 
themselves in double measure. The author of a 
romance or a book of essays had at home at least 
the protection and the satisfaction of the printed 
volume. His name was on the title-page, a war- 
rant, in a way, of his ownership. But the drama- 
tist had nothing of the sort. After writing his 
play, he confined it in manuscript to a single actor 

1 Life of Cooper, pp. 18-19. 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 31 

or manager, who "settled" for it in any way the 
parties agreed. In Bird's case we know, and in 
others presumably, these agreements were most 
careless and unbusinesslike. In some cases copies 
were made from stolen and mutilated versions of 
the original, and given by other companies without 
either the consent or remuneration of the author. ' 
There was of course no law in the matter to define 
an author's or actor's rights in a play. And yet, 
unsatisfactory as the situation was, publication 
was even less desirable. Once printed, a play 
passed out of the author's control entirely. And 
there was nothing to prevent any who saw fit from 
presenting it as often as they liked. Joseph S. 
Jones, a dramatist of the time, gives as one of his 
objections to the publication of his plays "that by 
publication I lost my ownership, copyright giving 
no protection against representation on the stage. 
Of course this meant that most of the profits from 
the drama went to the actors and managers, since 
the only property of any real value in a play lay in 
representation. The situation was made still worse 
by the circumstances already mentioned — the 
absence of international copyright and a deference 
to foreign art. Even more than fiction, foreign 
drama was in demand by the public. Furthermore, 
it could be given with less expense, since again 
there was no author to pay. William Dunlap 
years before found it more lucrative and not less 
respectable to translate or adapt foreign plays 

1 See J. S. Jones, Moll Pitcher, Letter from the Author. 



32 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

than to write original ones. He frankly made it 
his business to provide the American stage with 
English, French, and German novelities. Such 
then were some of the outer aspects of the profes- 
sion Bird was now about to enter. 

In order to have the ease and comfort of home, 
he rented with two of his brothers, John and 
Thomas, a house at 151 South Tenth Street, 
Philadelphia, over which their mother was asked to 
preside. Thomas Jefferson Bird deserves mention 
perhaps for his own sake as well as his brother's. 
Born five years before Dr. Bird, he early went to 
sea as a seaman. At the time he made his home 
with his brothers he was commander of a packet- 
ship of the Walker line, plying between American 
ports and Liverpool. His skill as a mariner was 
proverbial. There was a common saying on the 
lips of his crew that he managed his vessel "with 
the fear of the Lord and a broomstick," in allusion 
to his piety, order, and cleanliness. To him in 
later life his brother turned again and again for 
succor that was ever most kindly given. Thus 
settled, then, with his two brothers and mother, 
Bird began a course of the severest study. He 
read widely and critically in English, French, and 
Spanish literature. The history and geography of 
Spanish America were objects of special research, 
possibly with a view to his earlier romances. He 
made numerous maps and sketches of cities, battle- 
grounds, costumes, and so on. A large notebook of 
extracts and summaries dated ' ' Feby. 1 828 " attests 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 33 

the range and thoroughness of this reading. Ton- 
sard's American Artillerists' Companion, Ramsay's 
South Carolina, Calef's More Wonders of the In- 
visible World, Josselyn's New England Rarities Dis- 
covered in Birds, Beasts, etc., Marshall's American 
Revolution, are a few typical books thus abstracted. 
And with the candor of youth he blocked out his 
career on a grand scale. According to Henry D. 
Bird, Dr. Bird in 1828 sketched a plan according to 
which he was to begin as a dramatist, to continue 
with a series of romances, and to devote his later 
years to history. Fifty-five plays besides a num- 
ber of romances and stories, were projected. Of 
course, the plan is of no deep significance; literature 
is seldom written that way. It is simply proof of 
the sweep of Bird's early ambition. 

While a medical student, we noticed, Bird had 
been busily engaged with the pen, and had finished 
three plays and much verse, of which seven pieces 
were published in The Philadelphia Monthly Maga- 
zine from October to December of 1827. To this 
periodical he continued to send work. The 
January number contains a prose tale and a poem ; 
the May number another story; while between 
July and September six poems appear. By July, 
1828, he had completed another five-act comedy, 
with its scene in Philadelphia, entitled The City 
Looking Glass. In a prefatory note to the piece 
he says, ' ' When I commenced the following sheets 
it was my intention to have written a dissertation 
upon rascals. ... I soon turned my eyes to the 



34 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

remaining and perhaps the greater portion of 
Society, the fools, as personages remarkably well 
suited to shine as inferior and episodic characters 
in my dissertation." At the time he was also 
engaged on The Volunteers. On July 14, 1828, he 
wrote to his brother Henry, "Yesterday I found 
myself on the Brandywine Battle Ground. It was 
a good thing for me to be there; for besides de- 
lighting me with beautiful scenery it renewed in me 
the desire to go on with The Volunteers, and fur- 
nished me with many hints and clues for my story. ' ' 
Belonging to this year and the next is a mass of un- 
finished plays and stories, including two complete 
acts of a tragedy called Giannone, the dramatis 
personas, outlines of plots, and scraps of dialogue 
from at least three other dramas — Isidora, or The 
Three Dukes, King Philip, or The Sagamore, and 
The Fanatick. There is the portion of a story 
called Men of Hills, and much fragmentary verse. 
Taken as a whole, this apprentice work of Bird's 
hardly admits of a difference of opinion. It is 
frankly without special merit. However, as the 
work of scarcely more than an undergraduate — all 
of it was written before he was twenty-three — it 
is very far from unpromising. The verse is imi- 
tative of course, but shows grace, variety, and 
metrical skill. The lines are simply built; occa- 
sionally they rise to the level of beauty. For the 
bulk of it Bird's most enthusiastic admirer can 
hardly claim more. Originality, the illumining 
phrase, the "great accent," even marked beauty 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 35 

it does not have. Its best can be easily matched 
in any book of college verse. The prose tales have 
little more intrinsic worth than the verse, although 
more characteristic of his later work. In The 
Spirit of the Reeds and The Ice-Island there is a 
suggestion of the facile prose and realism that wins 
the reader of Calavar and The Infidel. Realism 
it is rather than reality, because the stories of Dr. 
Bird much more concern the outer, material detail 
of action and circumstance than the inner play of 
motive and feeling that constitutes so true a part 
of reality. Of this early work it is the dramas that 
give most promise of what was to come. For a 
youth of less than twenty-three Caridorf, 'Tis 
All for the Best, The Cowled Lover, and The City 
Looking Glass are remarkable productions. They 
are large, substantial plays with numerous char- 
acters and involved plots, that knot and solve with 
much naturalness. Even more successful is 
the spontaneous, clever dialogue. The occasional 
scraps of blank verse show flexibility and ease. 
Of course, the plays are full of echoes and not 
without obvious crudities. The dialogue is fre- 
quently too long, the dramatic foreshadowing too 
marked, the action unwieldy and halting. But 
taken as a whole, the work is a worthy promise of 
the greater things to come. 

It has been noted that the majority of actors and 
managers of that day frankly found it to their 
interests to produce foreign plays that were cer- 
tain to take and cost nothing rather than to risk 



36 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

native drama the authors of which had to be paid. 
There was one notable exception, who in 1828 gave 
to native playwrights a splendid chance to win 
their spurs. Edwin Forrest, the tragedian, was 
then twenty- two years of age; he had passed a 
rough-and-tumble apprenticeship as a strolling 
player through the South and West; but had al- 
ready made a reputation and considerable money 
on the stage. He was one of the first Americans to 
perceive and regret the utter lack of a native dra- 
matic literature, a lack he assigned solely to a want 
of encouragement. Unlike other managers and 
actors who frankly avoided the risk of producing 
American plays, Forrest determined to encourage 
native playwrights and thus to secure original 
r61es which should be exclusively his own. Pos- 
sibly it is true also, as some have charged, he 
wished to get plays cheaply. In any case he be- 
gan to offer a series of prizes ranging from five 
hundred dollars to three thousand dollars as an 
inducement to aspiring dramatists. The first 
announcement of the offer he sent to his friend 
William Leggett, who published it in The Critic 
of November 22, 1828. "To the author," it ran, 
"of the best tragedy in five acts, of which the hero 
or principal character shall be an original of this 
country, the sum of five hundred dollars and half 
the proceeds of the third representation, with my 
own gratuitous service on that occasion. The 
award to be made by a committee of literary and 
theatrical gentlemen." The committee Forrest 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 37 

picked was composed of William Cullen Bryant, 
Fitz-Greene Halleck, James Lawson, William Leg- 
gett, Prosper M. Wetmore, and J. G. Brooks. The 
first offer brought forth fourteen plays, the prize 
going to John Augustus Stone of Philadelphia 
for Metamora, or The Last of the Wamponoags. 
Afterward at intervals Forrest offered similar 
or larger premiums, securing in all about two 
hundred plays. Of these, nine drew prizes, 
were successfully staged, and have become per- 
manently identified with the history of American 
drama. 

Of the nine prize plays thus obtained by Forrest, 
Robert Montgomery Bird wrote four, Pelopidas, 
The Gladiator, Oralloossa, and The Broker of 
Bogota. Pelopidas, or The Fall of the Polemarchs, 
finished in the fall of 1830, is a blank verse tragedy 
in five acts on a theme from Greek history. Pelo- 
pidas, the famous Theban general, with a band 
of fellow-conspirators enters Thebes at nightfall, 
where the ruling magistrates who had betrayed 
their city to the Spartans are banqueting. He 
surprises them, slays with his own hand Leonidas, 
their leader, and thus brings again democracy 
to Thebes. Forrest's acceptance of Pelopidas is 
in a way a proof of its worth. At the same time 
the changes he jotted down and sent to Bird make 
an excellent critique of the play. There ought to 
be, he thought, "a little more incident," more 
"bustling," "more action" in the first three 
acts. The speeches of Philadas and Archias, 



38 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Forrest judged "too long," and of Philip "much 
too long." Act III., he went on, required "a 
better climax," for "there is yet no action"; 
Acts IV. and V. are to "remain as they are." 
Finally, Forrest suggested that ' ' Pelopidas should 
end it quickly"; otherwise, he fears, "'twill be 
dull." 

Though accepted by Forrest and counted by 
Bird himself his best play, Pelopidas was never 
staged, since before its production Bird had finished 
another prize play that apparently better suited 
Forrest's purposes. How to name the new piece 
puzzled him. In a letter dated December 31, 
1830, his brother Henry, whom he presumably 
consulted, advises him to "stick to The Gladiator. 
It is not only a captivating but popular name, and 
a character altogether more suited to Forrest's 
Roman figure and actions. " The play was com- 
pleted by April, 1831 , and accepted at once accord- 
ing to the following letter : 

My dear Sir : 

The MS of The Gladiator came duly to hand 
with your letter of 1st instant. I think there 
can be no reasonable objections against produc- 
ing your play in June, say, about the 20th if 
you think otherwise I will be control'd entirely 
by your directions and order a postponement 
of the same until the fall season. In my mind 
The Gladiator must prove victorious winter or 
summer to be sure he would not "groan and 
sweat" so much in cooler weather, but that will 
be his task not yours. 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 39 

I shall be in Philada. about the close of next 
week when we may discourse fully upon this 
subject. 

Caius Marius on Monday 
Evening next. Yours sincerely, 

Edwin Forrest. 
N. York, 6th May, 1831 
Robert M. Bird, Esq., 
New Castle, Delaware. 

The Gladiator was thus the occasion of Dr. Bird's 
introduction to Edwin Forrest. They met, we 
are told, in the office of Dr. Black, who with Dr. 
George McClellan, the well-known physician, and 
father of one of New Jersey's governors, conducted 
the negotiations. The details of the agreement 
are stated fully elsewhere. Suffice it to say in 
passing that for this play, which Forrest gave 
upwards of a thousand times during the author's 
life and made a fortune from, Dr. Bird received 
a single payment of one thousand dollars. ' 

The Gladiator was first performed on September 
26, 1 83 1, at the Park Theater, New York. The 
principal parts of Phasarius and Senona were 
taken respectively by Mr. Barry and Mrs. Sharpe, 
Forrest himself acting Spartacus, the hero. In a 
personal diary of remarkable interest entitled 
Secret Records, Bird has left an account of this 
performance. 

1 George H. Boker, the dramatist, once said, " If Dr. Bird had 
managed rightly about The Gladiator, he would have died a rich 
man." Historical and Biographical Encyclopedia of Delaware, 
P-3I7- 



40 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Sept. 26th at the Park Theatre, New York, 
The Gladiator was performed for the first time. 
That evening there fell such torrents of rain as 
had not visited New York for 15 or 20 years. 
Nevertheless, the house was crammed, the 
amount being about 1400 dols. The Park 
Company is the most wretched in the country. 
. . . There never was a play more miserably 
got up, old dresses, old scenes, many of them full 
of absurdities and to crown all, the performers 
with but two exceptions were horribly imperfect. 
If there had been a wish among the managers to 
have the play damned they could not have taken 
a better course. . . . Next morning Mr. 
Webbe, of the Courier and Inquirer, made a 
savage attack upon the piece, saying it was 
damned. ... I wonder if Mr. Webbe under- 
stands the meaning of the phrase "to thrust 
an iron into one's soul." . . . The Gladiator 
was enacted 4 times in New York to good houses ; 
and was more and more applauded every suc- 
cessive night. 

The play first appeared in Philadelphia at the Arch 
Street Theater, October 24th of the same year, 
with Mr. Forrest and Mr. J. R. Scott in the r61es 
of Spartacus and Phasarius. Under that date in 
the Secret Records is the following entry : 

Oct. 24th was its first night in Philadelphia. 
The jam of visitors was tremendous; hundreds 
retiring without being able to get seats or stands. 
An American feeling was beginning to show itself 
in the theatrical matters. The managers of the 
Arch St. Theatre were Americans, all the chief 
performers were Americans and the play was 



FIRST SUCCESS, ''THE GLADIATOR" 41 

written by an American. The play was very 
well got up. ... It was played with a roar 
of applause andbravoed to the echo, all which was 
comfortable enough. Played 4 times in full 
houses. Forrest is undoubtedly the best man 
for Spartacus in Christendom; in which his 
figure and physique show to the best advantage 
and his voice and muscle hold out to the last. 
. . . Scott is a most excellent Phasarius, 
and makes amends, for not always being perfect 
to a letter in the text, by going to the business 
with a will, which tells as favorably for himself 
as for the author. 

Of its performances at Boston, the Secret Records 
say: 

Dec. 14 (1831). The Gladiator has been per- 
formed at Boston and with good success. I 
have been disappointed in not finding any very 
lengthy or judgmatical reviews, particularly 
as the Boston critics have a pretty good opinion 
of their own abilities. 

Such are Dr. Bird's unpretending accounts of his 
first success as a playwright. But the critics were 
unanimous in enthusiastic praise. The New York 
Evening Post said: "The new tragedy of The Gladi- 
ator was last evening performed at the Park 
Theater, in this city for the first time, to a very 
crowded house. The term 'overflowing' applied 
to the audience could scarcely be considered meta- 
phorical ; for so over full was the pit that a number 
of persons were literally forced upon the stage by 
the pressure of the throng. The play was listened 



42 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

to throughout with great attention and interest, 
and on the falling of the curtain, the decision of the 
audience in respect to it was unequivocally spoken 
in long continued and thundering peals of applause. 
It is scarcely possible for a drama to meet with 
more decided approbation than was bestowed on 
The Gladiator. A more attentive, and apparently 
a more engaged audience, we never saw. Through- 
out the course of the whole entertainment, not a 
single sign of disapproval was given ; and frequently 
applause, bursting out involuntarily from a part 
of the audience, to the interruption of the action 
of the piece, or the passion of the speaker, was 
immediately checked and subdued by the rest, so 
that no line might be lost, or the effect of no in- 
cident impaired. ... At the conclusion of the 
piece, the whole last speech of Spartacus was 
utterly inaudible by reason of the clamorous ap- 
plause and when the curtain fell, the theater was 
literally shaken with the energetic demonstrations 
of pleasure given by the spectators." The New 
York Standard said of it : " To us it was a treat of no 
ordinary interest ; we felt — and enjoyed the feeling 
with pride and satisfaction — that The Gladiator was 
creditable to the genius, to the taste, and to the 
literary enterprise of the American people; and we 
feel no hesitation in putting it down as the best 
native tragedy extant. " The New England Galaxy 
of Boston said in its issue of November 19, 1831 : 
' ' During the past week we have been favored by 
Mr. Forrest with the greatest novelty that could 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 43 

be presented to an American audience — a genuine 
tragedy of native birth. We shall at once be 
understood as referring to the new prize piece, 
The Gladiator, written by Dr. Bird of Philadelphia. 
It is with a feeling of honest pride that we refer 
to this production ; for after the numerous shock- 
ing abortions to which our playwrights have 
within a year or two called the public attention, 
we cannot but hail with peculiar satisfaction the 
appearance of a regular, well-constructed, well- 
written, five-act play, which is fairly entitled to 
notice in the dramatic annals of the day, and forms 
an era in the literature of our country. " The 
Boston Evening Transcript commented on its lan- 
guage : " It is replete with beautiful passages and 
noble sentiments. The language is pure, and often 
highly poetical if we may trust our ear, and the few 
excerpts made by our contemporaries of New 
York and Philadelphia, from the manuscript, the 
tragedy not being in print." Of course the 
Philadelphia papers were proud to own their 
dramatist. "The author has shown," ran The 
United States Gazette, "not only a knowledge of 
effect, but a keen perception of the emotions of the 
human heart, and poetic talent of a very superior 
grade, in working up the piece from the slender 
materials furnished by history. He has entered 
with facility into a Roman expression, which never 
deserts him throughout. We are not disgusted by 
detecting the modern masquerading in an ancient 
garb. This beauty, with the pure classicality of 



44 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

the imagery, renders the piece as attractive to the 
scholar, considered as a literary production, as 
the vividness and intensity of interest delight the 
general audience." While Charles Durang re- 
lates of the first Philadelphia performance: "The 
entire male portion of the audience rose to its feet 
and gave at least nine cheers. I never saw in my 
experience any theatrical applause so wildly and 
impulsively given; and so it went through the 
land." 1 

The Gladiator is a blank-verse tragedy in five acts 
on a classic theme. The play opens on a street in 
Rome where some gladiators, Phasarius among 
them, observe the city's desertion. Her generals 
are off to war ; her populace is idle ; while they must 
amuse it by shedding each other's blood. Phasa- 
rius outspokenly resents his bondage, and darkly 
hints at revolt. But he is silenced by the appear- 
ance of Bracchius, his master, who tells of a 
Thracian athlete, "most desperate and uncon- 
querable," against whom he is to be pitted. 
Bracchius fires the blood of Phasarius with glowing 
accounts of his rival, and sends him to his exercise 
in a fighting mood. Meanwhile, Lentulus arrives 
with his Capuan gladiators and his famous Thra- 
cian, Spartacus. Spartacus had been a shepherd 
when through the treachery of a companion in the 
Roman wars he was captured, sent to Capua, and 
sold. Now brought to Rome in chains, he sulks, 

1 Durang, C, History of the Philadelphia Stage, III. ser., chapter 
xvi. 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 45 

refuses to take the oath to fight, pines for his wife 
and boy, and for his Thracian cottage. When to 
his joyous astonishment he spies them, whom he 
thought dead, among others that Bracchius has 
brought, the cloud goes off his soul, and he takes 
the oath to fight if they be restored to him. So 
Lentulus buys of Bracchius Senona and her boy. 
Soon after a magnificent spectacle is arranged in 
which two hundred pairs of athletes are to fight ; 
and after them, the survivors in general combat. 
But during his days of practice Spartacus has 
sown the seeds of revolt among the gladiators, who 
are primed to respond at his beck. The day of the 
games arrives; the amphitheater is thronged with 
the wealth and beauty of Rome; and over all 
Crassus, the prastor, presides. But Spartacus 
again sulks, refuses to fight two antagonists sent 
against him, but a third he crushes to death. At 
last Phasarius confronts him. For a moment the 
brothers stare in amazement as they recognize 
after years of separation, and throwing down their 
arms, defiantly refuse to fight. When the Roman 
cohorts are sent in, the gladiators rise in a body, 
attack the throng, and cut their way to freedom. 
To capture the insurgents Crassus puts in the field 
six legions, but Spartacus has mobilized his forces 
and planned a set attack. After Crixus with his 
Germans deserts him and is cut to pieces by the 
Romans, Spartacus sets upon the Consular army, 
routs it, and captures Julia, niece of Crassus. 
Spartacus now shows a finer side of his nature by 



46 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

a chivalrous refusal to allow Julia to become the 
mistress of Phasarius, who in a huff also goes his 
own way, and returns, alone of his army, a repent- 
ant man. Finally Spartacus is played false by 
pirates whose ships he has hired for flight, and, 
learning that Senona has been killed, makes his way 
to the praetorium where he dies fighting desperately 
to slay Crassus. 

A number of reasons combined to make The 
Gladiator effective, first of all the character of its 
hero. A finer type of elemental man than Spar- 
tacus hardly exists in literature, a perfect union 
of the primitive virtues, physical prowess, great 
courage, strong passions, and withal a heart of 
kindness. It is this range of qualities in the man 
that strikes one as he reads. Capacity for fury 
and brute strength we of course expect in gladia- 
tors, but in Spartacus there is vastly more. His 
qualities of leadership are early shown by the re- 
gard he inspires and holds in Anomaiis, Phasarius, 
and his men; by the reserve and balance of his 
judgment. His nature is also humane and chival- 
rous. His relations with Senona are ideal; while 
the captive Julia finds him her staunchest protec- 
tor. And like most men of action he has the power 
of uttering great things. "What is your name?" 
asks the haughty Bracchius. ' ' Misery ! " he sadly 
replies and later in the play observes, 

Nature 
Makes fewer rogues than misery. 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 47 

In addition to the splendor of the character was 
Forrest's perfect fit in the part. It was essentially 
melodramatic, and required voice, passion, and 
strength rather than finesse or subtlety. Forrest 
was a perfect embodiment of Spartacus; in con- 
sequence his acting was swift, sure, and instinctive. 
Of course it is true, as the English reviewers 
pointed out, that in the prominence of this one 
part lay a defect. It was so central and dominant 
that it draws the strength from the others, who 
seem but faintly sketched. Scenes where Sparta- 
cus is absent are inclined to flag in interest. 

Again, the literary quality of The Gladiator 
struck critics and spectators alike. The blank 
verse is uniformly easy, pleasing, and effective. 
Bird clearly proved his control of it as a medium of 
dramatic dialogue. Quotation at length would be 
tedious, but one passage that drew attention from 
both English and American critics and is also 
typical will serve as an illustration. Spartacus 
describes to Jovius, the Roman centurion, the 
desolation wrought by Roman arms upon the 
Thracian valleys. He has spoken of the ' ' ridgy-top 
of Haemus" and continues: 

In my green youth I looked 
From the same frosty peak where now I stood, 
And then beheld the glory of those lands 
Where peace was tinkling on the shepherd's bell 
And singing with the reapers. 
Since that glad day, Rome's conquerors had past 
With withering armies there and all was changed : 



48 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Peace had departed; howling war was there, 

Cheered on by Roman hunters : Then, methought, 

Even as I looked upon the altered scene, 

Groans echoed through the valleys, through which ran 

Rivers of blood, like smoking Phlegethons; 

Fires flashed from burning villages, and famine 

Shrieked in the empty cornfields. x 

Perhaps the chief factor in the triumph of the 
play was the energy and splendor of certain of its 
scenes. The meeting of Spartacus and Senona; 
the return and death of Phasarius ; the frenzy of 
Spartacus at the news of Senona's end, when he 
finds himself a hunted fugitive "alone upon the 
flinty earth"; his death struggle for freedom, are 
some of the situations that shot thrills through 
beholders. In the great scene where brother 
pitted against brother recognize each other after 
long separation, throw down their arms, and 
tenderly embrace, defiantly refusing to fight, the 
applause would burst into riot and interrupt the 
action. Here Forrest as Spartacus stood stripped 
to the waist, his great muscles flexed and bulging, 
his veins swollen, his jaws and neck rigid, his breath 
obstructed, while he calms his brother with a 
challenge to the throngs : 

Let them come in; we are armed. 

And in the lines "We will make Rome howl for 
this, " such were the clang- tints and the power of 

1 Act IV., Scene 3. 



FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 49 

Forrest's intonation of "howl" that it became a 
catch phrase with boys in the street. Here the 
Spartacus of Forrest was "the perfection of 
physical realism." Everywhere the play was 
given, and it went throughout the land, it won the 
same delighted, impulsive applause. From the 
hour of its first appearance the name of Robert 
Montgomery Bird had a fixed place in the annals 
of the American stage. 



CHAPTER IV 

FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 

The acceptance of two plays by a leading actor 
of the day would supposedly satisfy a young man 
of twenty-five that he had found his bent. Most 
authors have begun their careers under far less 
promising circumstances. But it was not so with 
Bird. In the Secret Records under date of August 
27, 1831, he again wears his heart on his sleeve and 
naively calculates his chances. He quotes from 
Suetonius, Vitce Ccesarum and with amiable candor 
compares his own youth to that of ' ' the mightiest 
Julius" in its fruitlessness and waste. Twenty- 
five years he has lived in the world and done 
nothing — "nothing but hope." Ambitious as he 
was, his companions swiftly push by him to posi- 
tions of responsibility and usefulness. There is a 
great step between the boy of promise and the 
man of achievement. "I envy no boy his pre- 
cocity," he goes on, "but a man's is another 
matter. Congreve began at nineteen and wrote 
his last play at twenty-five. Sheridan produced 
The Rivals at twenty-two, and at twenty-five had 
written The School for Scandal; at twenty-two 

50 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 51 

Campbell had published The Pleasures of Hope; 
and at twenty-four Byron had become as immortal 
as Childe Harold. Glorious instances these and 
very ridiculous for me to talk about them." The 
Gladiator, of course, had not yet appeared, and its 
fate was naturally a matter of concern. "I wrote 
The Gladiator just on the eve of my twenty-fifth 
year; but can have no satisfaction in noting its 
birth till I can form some augury of the length of 
its life. To be sure, folks talk as agreeably as they 
can, particularly those who know the least about 
it. . . . I am disposed to be sanguine enough ; that 
is my temperament. But I have just been staring 
hard at the world, and the view chills my anticipa- 
tions." He then recounts the career of a friend, 
liberally educated for a profession, who similarly 
quit it to pursue literature and pitiably wrecked 
his life. But there were sounder grounds for mis- 
giving. "Our theaters are in a lamentable condi- 
tion and not at all fashionable. To write for and 
be admired by the groundlings! villains that will 
clap when you are most nonsensical and applaud 
you most heartily when you are most vulgar; that 
will call you 'A genius, by G — ' when you can 
make the judicious grieve and 'a witty devil' 
when you force a woman to blush." Furthermore, 
the freedom of an American author was greatly 
narrowed. Were The Gladiator to be produced in 
a slave State, Bird thinks, the managers, actors, 
and author as well would probably be rewarded 
with the penitentiary. Finally, the requirements 



52 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

for a successful dramatist might well make a be- 
ginner pause and shiver. "What a fool I was 
to think of writing plays! To be sure, they are 
much wanted. But then novels are much easier 
sorts of things and immortalize one's pocket much 
sooner. A tragedy takes or should take as much 
labor as two romances ; and one comedy as much as 
six tragedies." He then considers some of those 
requirements — invention, poetic fancy, common 
sense. "The sanguine and fiery ardor of an Orien- 
tal, " "the phlegmatic judgment of a German," 
infinite capacity for feeling, a thorough knowledge 
of human nature. ' ' He should in short be at once 
a poet, orator, wit, and philosopher," and able to 
carry on two operations in his mind simultaneously, 
"to create and to fancy his creations acting." 

In March, 1832, Dr. Bird removed with his 
mother and a trusted servant to No. 140 North 
Twelfth Street, Philadelphia, his brothers being 
obliged by business to leave the city. At the time, 
it seems, he was head and ears in literary projects. 
His notebooks are crowded with titles and plans 
for stories, articles, and plays, and with abstracts 
from a widely miscellaneous course of reading. 
His personal accounts for the year 1831 show that 
he purchased during the month of December 
Tanner's Narrative, Moore's Byron, Fox's Book of 
Martyrs, Byron's Poems, Duane's Columbia, 
Prior's Voyages, Sphix's Brazil, South American 
Travels, Long's Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, 
Watson's Annals of Philadelphia. During March 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 53 

of 1832 he bought Bryant's Poems, a Dictionary 
of Biography, Gordon's Pennsylvania, The Voy- 
ages of Columbus. In February of 1832, he had 
finished another blank verse tragedy entitled 
Oralloossa, Son of the Incas. It was submitted to 
Forrest and at once accepted, Bird's third play to 
take a prize. The theme of the play he took from 
the history of Peru during the first half of the six- 
teenth century in the days of Pizarro. The con- 
spiracy led by Pizarro's nephew, his assassination 
of Pizarro at Lima, and the suppression of the 
rebellion that ensued form the historic groundwork 
of the tragedy. The only fictitious part, Bird 
states, consists in the introduction of "the imagin- 
ary character of Oralloossa, a son of Atahualpa, and 
of making him the center of action and interest." 
Two objects, he further states, he had in view, 
"first, the portraiture of a barbarian in which is 
concentered all those qualities both of good and 
evil which are most strikingly characteristic of 
savage life; the second, to show how the noblest 
designs of a great man and the brightest destinies 
of a nation could be interrupted and destroyed by 
the unprincipled ambition of a single individual." 
It is worthy mention, though not a surprise, that 
Bird's least successful play had its root in a moral 
purpose. 

Oralloossa was first staged October 10, 1832, at 
the Arch Street Theater, Philadelphia, when the 
rivalry between this house and the Chestnut 
Street Theater was at its tensest point. At the 



54 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

latter on October ioth, Charles Kemble made his 
first appearance in Philadelphia in Hamlet with a 
cast that included Miss Kemble, Mr. Sinclair, 
Mr. James Wallack, and the Ravel family. As a 
counter attraction Forrest produced Oralloossa, 
assisted by Mr. and Mrs. Hilson, M. J. R. Scott, 
Mr. Hill, Mr. C. Kean, and Mr. Cooper. Kemble's 
fame was great, and all who frequented theaters 
wished to see him. At the same time Bird's 
Gladiator was fresh in the minds of Philadelphians 
and won its author a ready hearing for his second 
piece. Critics had read the play in manuscript 
and given it sanguine announcements. "For our 
own part," ran the account in The Evening Post, 
' ' we beg leave in conclusion to tender Mr. Forrest 
our sincere thanks for the pleasure which a perusal 
of Oralloossa has afforded us — we thank him for 
having called into exercise such a mind as Dr. 
Bird's — we thank him for having added to the per- 
manent literature of our country a tragedy, which, 
whether for the deep historic interest of the fable, 
the ingenuity of its dramatic construction, the 
fine bursts of passionate feeling and the sweet 
touches of poetry with which it abounds, or the 
general nobleness of the sentiments, and of the 
great moral lessons it inculcates, has few superiors 
in the whole range of English drama." Special 
scenery had been painted by Messrs. Coyle and 
Leslie. Richard Penn Smith wrote an eloquent 
prologue. In consequence the theater-going public 
of Philadelphia was almost equally divided be- 



FORREST AND THE LATER PL A YS 55 

tween the houses. But favoring as the circum- 
stances were, Oralloossa was hardly a success. It 
was the case of a play that read well but acted 
poorly. Forrest was quick to feel its tameness on 
the boards and threw himself into his part with, 
such desperation that, in one case, he dislodged a 
fellow-actor's front teeth by his vehement lunge 
at Don Christoval. Yet, the audience were plainly 
disappointed. Oralloossa was inferior to The 
Gladiator in every respect, in plot, incident, dia- 
logue, characterization. In it Dr. Bird repeated 
the disastrous mistake of effecting a climax at the 
end of the third act by the death of Pizarro without 
being able again to rise above it. Lavish with 
praise as the critics continued to be, Forrest was 
convinced that the play was unworthy both author 
and actor, and at the end of the season struck it 
from his list of acting r61es. 

In the spring of 1833 Dr. Bird and Edwin 
Forrest planned together an extensive trip through 
the South and West. Their first intention was to 
include Cuba, Mexico, and parts of South America, 
in order to study the peoples, the archaeology, and 
the customs of these lands. Dr. Bird carried with 
him letters of introduction to General Pedraza 
and Mr. Castillo, a United States Commissioner 
in Mexico, who were to put him in touch with 
sources of information. In these countries Bird's 
interests had long centered. He spoke Spanish, 
had made a special study of Mexican and South 
American history, and had laid the scene of his 



56 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

last play in Peru. From Philadelphia they first 
went to Charleston, arriving April 13th. South 
Carolina was then in the throes of nullification; 
shops were closed, houses in disrepair, while the 
populace, divided into nullifiers and unionists, 
were so ripe for a fight that "a single personal 
fisticuffing between the two would have led all into 
a general combat." Forrest was obliged to hasten 
on to New Orleans to fill an engagement, while 
Bird visited Savannah, Augusta, Warrenton, 
Milledgeville, Macon, Columbus, Montgomery, 
Selma, and Mobile, reaching New Orleans May 
6th. It was Bird's intention to write a book of 
sketches, and each place has left in a diary its 
accurate impression. 1 At New Orleans they en- 
countered an epidemic of cholera which was raging 
through the South with fearful destructiveness ; 
they therefore abandoned their trip to Central and 
South America, and headed for home. Under even 
the best conditions travel in those days was an 
arduous task. As Bird with pardonable exaggera- 
tion says, he "climbed hills, waded swamps, slept 
six in a bed, fed on corn and bacon, and was often 
imprisoned in some rascally village by the heavy 
rains rendering the roads impassable." Through 
Baton Rouge and Natchez, they reached Nashville 
June 1 6th. Here Bird visited his old friend John 
Grimes, with whom he explored the Mammoth 
Cave. They were among the first to penetrate its 

1 The title of the proposed book was Sketches of America, 
Physical, Moral, and Political, by a Man of Leisure. 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 57 

inmost grottoes, and Bird wrote a minute account 
for The American Monthly Magazine, and for his 
volume of tales and recollections, Peter Pilgrim. 
With Forrest once more he went on to Detroit, 
from which point he made a detour home by way of 
Niagara Falls, passing "behind the great Falling 
Sheet of Water to Termination Rock, July 13th." 
He arrived in Philadelphia the latter part of July. 
On his return Dr. Bird at once set to work on a 
Mexican romance and on a tragedy, the scene of 
which was Sante Fe de Bogota. A consideration 
of Calavar belongs elsewhere. The Broker of Bogota, 
as Bird named his play, was finished by January, 
1834, submitted to Forrest, and accepted, his 
fourth play to win a prize. It was first produced 
by Forrest at the Bowery Theater, New York, on 
February 12, 1834, an d so delighted the great 
actor with its power and appeal that immediately 
on his return from the performance he thus wrote 
to Dr. Bird : 

Dear Bird: 

I have just left the theater — your tragedy 
was performed and crowned with entire suc- 
cess. The Broker of Bogota will live when our 
vile trunks are rotten. You have every reason 
to congratulate yourself. Will you come to 
New York immediately upon the receipt of this 
letter? Start on Friday morning and you will 
have an opportunity of seeing your last child 
"in health and spirits." Come! Wetmore is 
desirous you should come with him on Friday 
next. Come! I will return with you to Phila- 



58 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

delphia on Tuesday. All your friends will be 
rejoiced to see you — you shall be welcomed with 
hearts and hands. Come, Come, Come ! 
Yours ever, 

Edwin Forrest. 

12 Feb. 1834, 
New York. 



The Broker of Bogota has been counted by many 
Bird's best play. It lacked the melodramatic 
qualities of The Gladiator, and required more skill- 
ful acting in the minor parts. For these reasons 
Forrest gave it less often, but it remained a 
favorite with him to the end of his career. The 
Broker of Bogota is a domestic drama of real life in 
its familiar course. Baptista Febro, the broker, a 
man of ripe years, has long conducted a large 
business in Bogota. Two traits dominate the 
man, personal honor and parental affection. In 
consequence when his son, a weak rather than a 
bad man, turns to dissipation, he is vehemently 
provoked and tries reform by cutting him off and 
disowning him. He thus blasts Ramon's prospects 
of marriage with a girl whose father objects to a 
penniless outcast. In desperation, Ramon opens 
his bosom to Caberero, a cool, dashing villain, of 
noble blood and brilliant mind, but utterly corrupt 
morals, and at his suggestion is entangled in a plot 
to rob his father and thus win Juana. The robbery 
is committed. By a diabolical juggling of cir- 
cumstances Caberero turns back the guilt on 
Febro himself, who, old and confused, stands piti- 



FORREST AND THE LATER PL A YS 59 

fully helpless before the court. Meanwhile, Juana, 
Ramon's fiancee, learns of her lover's base timidity 
in allowing his father's conviction, wrests from 
him a declaration of Febro's innocence, scorns his- 
offers of marriage, and hurries to the court in time 
to exonerate Febro. But, meanwhile, another 
child has brought sorrow on the aged father; 
Leonor, his daughter, has eloped with a stranger. 
This circumstance, however, soon turns to joy 
when the stranger proves a son of Palmera, the 
viceroy of Granada, who sues for pardon. Added 
happiness comes to Febro when Juana 's evidence 
puts his innocence beyond doubt before the as- 
sembled court. But alas, Ramon in despair, hurls 
himself from a cliff. The sudden reversal of emo- 
tion is too much for the overwrought Febro; it 
snaps the last cord; and he falls to the floor a 
corpse. Even in outline the flawless construction 
of this play becomes apparent. Here is no mis- 
placed climax. Our interest is deftly transferred 
from situation to situation, from Ramon and 
Juana to Rolando and Leonor, to Febro's painful 
trial, to the touching catastrophe. The characters, 
too, have flesh-and-bone reality. Febro is an ac- 
tual acquaintance — hale, courteous, plain, sin- 
cere, outspoken. In him, the bundle of traits and 
possibilities that go into the make of a man are 
shrewdly set forth. In the court scene when 
Caberero so shuffles circumstances that there seems 
"neither hinge nor loop to hang a doubt on" of 
Febro's guilt, the silent eloquence of his innocence 



60 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

pleads with a thousand tongues. His alternate 
sternness and affection, his pitiable helplessness in 
the hands of Caberero, his labor and sorrow, his 
final dissolution like so much brittle glass, touch- 
ingly proclaim him man with man's infirmities. 
Second only to that of Febro is the character of 
Ramon, a slack-fibered youth equally helpless in 
a crisis, temptation, or despair. In fact, all the 
major characters have the clean-run lines of actual 
people. To conclude, for power, tenderness, range 
of character, searching portraiture, and general 
acting qualities, The Broker of Bogota deserves a 
fixed place in American dramas 

One other play hitherto not associated with his 
name requires mention with the dramatic works of 
Dr. Bird. Metamora, or the Last of the Wampanoags, 
by John Augustus Stone, was the first of Forrest's 
prize-plays. It was first given in Philadelphia at 
the Arch Street Theater, January 22, 1830, and was 
frequently played by Forrest with every mark of 
favor. John Augustus Stone was a poor New 
England actor who had settled in Philadelphia and 
written several plays less well known. Metamora 
was played again and again and yielded Forrest 
enormous sums, but poor Stone shared a small part 
of them, and in a fit of despair, at the early age of 
thirty, flung himself into the Schuylkill at the 
Spruce Street wharf, Philadelphia. Where did 
Stone get his idea of Metamora? Dr. Bird, ac- 
cording to his wife, never spoke of Stone except in 
terms of extreme pity. At the same time, accord- 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 61 

ing to the same authority, both Dr. Bird and 
Henry D. Bird asserted that Stone took the idea 
of Metamora from an early drama of Bird's entitled 
King Philip, or the Sagamore written in 1829 and 
submitted, among other critics, to Stone. Bird's 
early play exists only in fragments, and a line for 
line comparison is impossible, but there is enough 
to show strong resemblance. But Dr. Bird had 
more concern with Metamora. Forrest gradually 
came to the feeling that Stone's play required re- 
vision, and before his tour to Great Britain in 1836, 
put it into Bird's hands for that purpose. The 
play was so written, according to Mrs. Bird, that 
revision was impracticable. In consequence, Dr. 
Bird wrote virtually a new play differing from the 
original in dramatis personae, plot, and dialogue. 
Among Dr. Bird's papers are still to be seen notes 
for Metamora, outlines for acts, lists of characters, 
scraps of scenes, and suggestions. The play thus 
revised was accepted by Forrest in September, 
1 836, Bird charging for the alterations $2000. The 
manuscript was always retained by Forrest, not- 
withstanding repeated efforts on the part of Dr. 
Bird and his family to get the play. According to 
Forrest he never used the alterations, and in 1856 
had ' ' not the slightest idea where they are to be 
found." 1 

The dramas of Dr. Bird were among the first 
from an American pen to appear abroad. On his 

1 Edwin Forrest to Dr. E. R. Mayer, Bird's brother-in-law, 
April 15, 1856. 



62 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

professional tours through Great Britain Forrest 
invariably included one or more in his repertoire. 
On his first tour in 1836 he opened his engagement 
at the Theater Royal, Drury Lane, the 17th of 
October with The Gladiator. This with Lear, 
Macbeth, and Othello, composed his chief r61es. 
On his second trip in 1 845-1 846, he added The 
Broker of Bogota. It is not surprising that in Eng- 
land neither of these American plays stirred the 
enthusiasm they stirred at home. The fact did 
not necessarily reflect on the plays. Both the 
theme and treatment of The Gladiator, with its 
stress on the physical in acting, unfitted it for a 
strong appeal to a critical London audience of the 
nineteenth century. It was not exactly what they 
liked or looked for. Besides an Englishman felt 
the one true test of an actor's power was Shake- 
speare. Accordingly, it was not a condemnation of 
The Gladiator when after Forrest's speech at the 
end of the play, the audience shouted to him to 
appear in Shakespearean r61es. ' There is, too, a 
likelihood that the condescension toward American 
art generally, so marked at the time, was not 
absent in this instance. It showed itself in the air 

1 Henry Wyckoff thus described the first London performance 
of The Gladiator: "Old Drury was crowded from pit to ceiling 
with an eager and excited audience. All the friends of the popular 
actors of the day congregated in force. The American minister, 
and all the fellow-countrymen of Forrest were likewise present. 
There was silence until Spartacus, the Gladiator, came forward, 
when a hearty shout of welcome broke forth from all parts of the 
house. His magnificent person astonished those who had never 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 63 

of mild outrage with which they heard Forrest's 
speech, and their rebuke when he interpreted his 
ovation as a mark of friendliness to America. 
On the other hand, many reviewers put their' 
finger with the surety that often distinguishes the 
English critic on flaws in the play. The domi- 
nance of the chief character and the faintness of 
the others they noted at once. The character of 
Senona especially, who accompanied Spartacus in 
his exploits and by his supposed skill in divina- 
tion prompted some of his most daring exploits, 
deserved, they thought, more distinction. The 
weakening after the arena scene they perceived 
at once. Yet there was much in The Gladiator 
that the English admired. They thought the 
subject admirably adapted for scenic representa- 
tion. The perfect fit of the chief r61e to Forrest's 
powers won approval. Of course, its great scenes 
fired its audience abroad as at home. "Indeed," 
ran a review in The Sun of October 18, 1836, "we 
have not heard more enthusiastic bursts of applause 
shake the walls of an English theater since Othello 
expired with poor Kean. Nor did they omit to 

seen him. His rich and powerful voice thrilled all who had not 
heard it. His earnest, impassioned acting quite electrified the 
audience. At the end he was overwhelmed with applause and 
it was plain he had secured a hold on British sympathies, which 
he never lost. There was a clique present who were disappointed 
by his success, and when he appeared, at the general demand, to 
make his acknowledgments, they raised the cry of ' Shakespeare, 
Shakespeare!'" Reminiscences of an Idler, chapter xxxvii., pp. 
376-7- 



64 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

note and praise the occasional passages of rare 
beauty, particularly that describing the Thracian 
valleys before the Roman invasion when, 

". . . . Peace was tinkling in the shepherd's bells, 
And singing with the reapers." 

While it is true the play did not create the stir 
Forrest expected and he wrote to his mother that 
he did not think the English ' ' treated The Gladia- 
tor and Dr. Bird fairly, " it is true also, that all in 
all it was favorably received. Of this there is 
space for but a single testimonial, of many that 
might be cited. 

Dramatic Authors Society 

London, Octo. 26, 1836. 
Sir: 

I have the honor to inform you that at a 
general meeting of this society, you as the 
author of the Play of The Gladiator, were unan- 
imously elected an Honorary Member in token 
of respect for your Talent as a writer by the 
English Dramatic Authors. 

I have been directed to intimate this to you 
through your friend Mr. E. Forrest, which I do 
with pleasure 
I am, 
Sir 
Your faithful servant 

Richard Brinsley Peake. 
Secretary & Treasurer, 
42 King Street, 

Convent Garden. 
To Dr. Bird. 
etc., etc. 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 65 

Such, then, were Bird's contributions to Ameri- 
can drama. It remains only to consider briefly 
Forrest's share in their success; his art; his per- 
sonal relations with Bird ; and to conclude with an 
account of Bird's views and methods of dramatic 
composition. 

The success of Bird's plays, The Gladiator par- 
ticularly, owed a large acknowledgment to the 
powers of Edwin Forrest. For him they were first 
written, and no rdles in his acting list better dis- 
played his art. Edwin Forrest belonged to what 
has been called the natural school of acting. 
Romantic rather than classic, it was empiric in 
method and built its reading of life rather on ob- 
servation, intuition, instinct, and practice than on 
traditional formulae. Forrest began his career as 
a strolling player through the South and West. 
He early learned to heed as the truest tutors his 
own great depths of feeling and exuberance of 
passion, his instinctive democracy of sentiment, 
and men themselves in the original types. Rules 
and traditions he was apt to ignore. And yet he 
was not unmindful of his great forbears. From 
Kean he caught a strong bias toward the melo- 
dramatic, from Cooper a fondness for the stately 
and the statuesque. But men and things were his 
chief study. He used to walk behind old men, 
watching their every movement to get the exact 
tread and mannerism of age. He visited hospitals 
and asylums, noting all the phases of weakness and 
death, the features and actions of maniacs. He 



66 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

ingeniously devised contrivances to give to his act- 
ing the utmost reality. In the part of Virginius, 
for example, Forrest for years had the hollow blade 
of the knife filled with a red fluid which on the 
pressure of a spring as he struck his daughter 
spurted like blood from a stab. A lady once 
fainted away as he played this scene, and realizing 
that the act was artifice, not art, he never repeated 
it. Of course, this realism, when within the 
bounds of art, made for effectiveness. James 
Oakes recounts a performance of Virginius, where 
among men and women audibly sobbing there 
sat near the stage "a fine looking old gentleman 
with hair as white as snow." In the part where 
the desperate father kills his daughter, so carried 
away was the old man that he uttered in distinct 
tones, ' ' My God, he has killed her ! " Afterwards, 
when Virginius, having lost his reason, comes upon 
the stage and with a distraught air says, "Where 
is my daughter?" the old man arose, and looking 
the actor earnestly in the face with tears streaming 
from his eyes, said, "Good God, don't you know 
that you have killed her?" This episode Forrest 
counted one of the greatest tributes he ever 
received. 

Again, the art of Edwin Forrest had about it a 
"magnanimous breadth and generosity of manly 
temperament." Of this the r61e of Spartacus was 
a superb example. All who witnessed it felt 
Forrest's burning honesty of passion, his open 
fellowship, his breadth of sympathy, his large 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 67 

elemental nature. His best r61es were ever em- 
bodiments of man in his primitive virtue and glory- 
rather than in the refinements of society. With 
this went hand in hand the spell of his physical 
magnetism. "His Gladiator," says Alger, his 
biographer, "in his palmiest days of vital strength 
was something never surpassed in its kind. Every 
stroke touched the raw of truth, and it was sublime 
in its terribleness." Celebrated artists studied his 
wonderful body, from Gilbert Stuart to William 
Page, the latter depicting him as Spartacus in the 
arena, when about to utter his stirring challenge 
to the throngs. And then Forrest's accuracy and 
definiteness gave his action distinction and power. 
Critics joined in eulogizing his reading, which was 
a "model of precision and lucidity in the extri- 
cation of the sense of words. His recitation was 
as clear as a mathematical demonstration." His 
voice, naturally deep, rich, and strong, he had given 
by exercise an astonishing range of fullness and 
power. Such were the virtues of Forrest's art, — 
sincerity, eloquence, power, an overwhelming 
animal magnetism. Of course, he had short- 
comings, — a lack of spirituality, of beauty, of 
charm, of subtlety and refinement, which pre- 
vented him from wholly winning approval from the 
intellectual part of the public. He was too in- 
clined, as William Winter puts it, "to dominate a 
multitude that had never heard anything short of 
thunder and never felt anything till it was hit with 
a club." But of these faults we must not make too 



68 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

much; they belonged as much to the school and 
the time as to the man. 

A happy stroke it was that brought into inti- 
macy these two men at the start of their careers 
when each could thus ably supplement the other. 
It is a regret that a friendship so enriching should 
have had so brief a term. Edwin Forrest and 
Robert Montgomery Bird first became acquainted 
in the office of a friend, Dr. Black, in the spring of 
1 83 1, when arrangements were made regarding 
The Gladiator. They were men of many like 
tastes, highly regarded each other's talents, were 
soon to travel together, and so became the closest 
of friends. Bird counted Forrest the best actor 
for Spartacus "in Christendom"; while Forrest 
introduced Bird to his English friends as one of 
America's first dramatists. Unhappily for both, 
there was in those days, as we have seen, no copy- 
right law which defined the rights of an author and 
an actor in a play. Dr. Bird wrote under condi- 
tions somewhat like those of Shakespeare's day. 
An author kept his play in manuscript, and con- 
fined it to a single actor or manager. The right 
of representation, the only property of any value, 
passed without restriction to the actor or manager, 
who paid an initial cost, agreed to further pay- 
ments if a success, and gave the play as often as he 
liked. The only condition of success, as Bird wrote 
to George Boker years after, was to surrender every 
aspiration to literary fame and trust your work 
as the only means of communication with the 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 69 

world to a theatrical company, which more often 
than not ranted and mangled it in the acting. In 
Bird's case the procedure was further confused 
by the fact that his plays were prize-plays, sub- 
mitted and accepted in competition. 

It was the absence of any laws on these matters 
that led to the break between Forrest and Dr. 
Bird, and largely induced the latter to abandon 
dramatic authorship. The exact situation be- 
tween them seems to have been this. When Ed- 
win Forrest accepted Bird's first play, he made a 
payment with the understanding that if it were a 
success Bird should receive $3000. A percentage 
on each representation was also mentioned. As 
has been noted, it was simply an understanding, 
not a written contract. For Pelopidas, the first 
drama, $1000 was offered. This play being re- 
placed by The Gladiator and not given, a similar 
offer of $1000 was made by Forrest to Bird and 
accepted. Presumably this was partly in the 
nature of a prize. The same amount was paid for 
each Oralloossa and The Broker of Bogota. In 
short Bird received for the four plays, of which 
three were performed, the sum of $3000. He had 
borrowed from Forrest loans on notes to the 
amount of $2000, making in all $5000. These 
loans Forrest later tried to collect, giving Bird his 
first intimation that the balance on the plays was 
never to be paid. This move on Forrest's part 
would seem to justify those who have declared his 
prize scheme simply a ruse to get plays cheaply. 



70 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Furthermore, at Forrest's request, Bird rewrote 
Metamora, which was accepted in September of 
1836, and for which Bird thought due him $2000 as 
he says, "for so much I think it worth." In a word 
Dr. Bird fixed Forrest's indebtedness at $11,000 
of which he had received but $5000. To quote his 
own words, after an itemized statement he con- 
tinues, "He owes me therefore, $6000; though I 
have no bond , contract , or other written instrument 
to show that he does." To Bird the situation was 
the more galling because of Forrest's enormous 
profits from the plays. His custom was, Bird says, 
to perform the play "at the first gettings up in 
New York, Philadelphia, and Boston five successive 
nights in each place; and, in the second engage- 
ments in these towns, so many times more as to be 
equal, counted with the getting up engagements, 
to twenty-five or thirty nights in all." 1 He thus 
obtained so many more "crams." Forrest re- 
ceived for the first nights half the gross receipts, 
for the four remaining nights half the profits; he 
then made the rounds of the theaters in the South 
and West, drawing returns almost as large. By 
a rough but conservative estimate, Bird fixed 
Forrest's profits on a play for the first year at 
$12,000. And two of Bird's plays, as we saw, 
Forrest gave off and on to the end of his career. 

It was at this juncture, after much unsuccessful 
endeavor, that Dr. Bird made an appointment in 

1 See Memoranda among the Bird MSS., Library of University 
of Pennsylvania. 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 71 

his home with Forrest in 1837. His object was to 
have a settlement as well as to get the manuscript 
of Metamora, which Forrest had taken with him 
to Europe. An angry dispute arose. The two 
parted. When asked by his wife who his visitor 
was, Dr. Bird replied, "That scoundrel! He is not 
fit to be in the presence of a lady." From that 
hour, according to his wife, Dr. Bird lost all interest 
whatever in the drama, abandoned dramatic au- 
thorship, and never after frequented the theater, 
not even to witness his own plays. x 

It only remains to set forth briefly, and as far as 
possible in his own words, Dr. Bird's sources, aims, 
and methods of workmanship, for we have about 

1 Among the Bird MSS. I find the following statement of Mrs. 
Bird: "I have understood that it was customary to add to the 
announcements of Forrest's intended representations of The 
Gladiator, in New York, the information that the Author would 
be present on the occasion. The same gratuitous piece of news 
may, for aught I know, have been afforded in other places. In 
regard to such notices I can positively assert that they were al- 
together without Dr. Bird's knowledge or consent — that he held 
no direct intercourse with Mr. Forrest for at least sixteen years, 
the last interview with him being for business purposes in the fall 
of 1837 after Mr. F.'s return from Europe, when Dr. made a 
last direct, but unsuccessful effort to obtain possession of the 
manuscript of Metamora, as well as of the money due by Forrest 
— that Dr. neither went to New York nor thought of going during 
the last 18 or 20 years of his life — that during that period he 
never attended a representation of any of his own plays, nor 
was inside a theater half a dozen times: indeed, I believe, I 
may truly say that during that period he was present but once at 
a theatrical performance, and that was for the purpose of doing 
honor to a new play of Mr. Boker's — from which he returned 
home sickened by the heat and crowd." 



72 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

these matters the fullest information. Few liter- 
ary artists have thrown open their workshops with 
more unreserve than Dr. Bird. Among his papers 
is a mass of notes, suggestions, outlines, abstracts, 
diaries, drafts, and fragments that disclose most 
interestingly his successive steps in composition. 
One can almost trace the plays from their first 
impulse scene by scene to completion. Perhaps 
what first strikes the reader of these papers is the 
amount of research that preceded writing. Dr. 
Bird counted it of first importance to catch the 
exact "form and pressure " of the times and peoples 
among whom his story lay and spared no pains to 
get them. The Gladiator, for instance, carried him 
far into the Latin writers. I find, besides the 
English works of Hooke and of Ferguson, a de- 
tailed list of leadings in the works of Florus, 
Livy, Eutropius, Plutarch, Paterculus, Appian, and 
Tacitus. l His research into the life and history of 
Mexico and Spanish America was equally exten- 
sive; upwards of two hundred and ten finely writ- 
ten foolscap sheets remain abstracting histories, 
memoirs, and books of travel. Thus quarried, the 
incidents were thrown together into a short prose 
resume, parted into plot and subplot, and blocked 
out into acts and scenes, with points marked for 

1 Among the Bird MSS. I find the following list of sources 
probably used in connection with The Gladiator: Plutarch, 
Crassus [8-12]; Livy, Epit., xcv.; Florus, iii., 20; Eutropius, vi., 2; 
Tacitus, Ann., xv., 46; Paterculus, ii., 30; Appian [De Bettis 
Civilibus, i., 1 16-12 1]; Sallust [Hist., iii., frag. 90, 93, 96, 100, 
1 01; iv., frag., 41]; Caecilius. 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 73 

striking speeches and situations. Abundance of 
detail was added to give the story the utmost 
realism, and upon this frame was woven bit by 
bit the dialogue. 

Of dramatic effect Dr. Bird had very definite 
ideas. "The true secret of effect (in drama)," he 
says, "consists in having everything as well in 
details as in general structure epigrammatic or 
climacteric, the story rising to rapidity and clos- 
ing with power; the chief characters increasing in 
passion and energy; the events growing in interest, 
the scenes and acts each accumulating power above 
their precursors ; the strength of a speech augment- 
ing at its close, and the important characters dis- 
missed at each exit with some sort of point and 
emphasis." Of course the mastery of this effect 
involved all those complex requirements that 
made playwriting so arduous. "The first part of 
the education of a dramatist," he says, "is that 
which fits him to be a writer; the second makes 
him an actor; the third inducts him into the prin- 
ciples of criticism; and he has completed his 
studies when he can exercise the functions of the 
three not separately but together. The education 
of an actor," he goes on, " can only be acquired in 
the theater, and in a close study of great plays. 
First he must learn 'stage business,' comprising the 
mechanical aspects of the actor's art, the manage- 
ment of voice, gestures, grouping, and so on. He 
must then learn to act with effect and to see in our 
great dramas 'what it is that is effective.' He 



74 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

will perceive that certain incidents and situations 
and certain forms of language are impressive on the 
boards; while others, perhaps not less interesting 
and beautiful in imagination, are entirely without 
point in performance. The great, perhaps the 
chief, secret of effect depends upon the style of 
language. . . . The secret is simple: that writer 
stumbles upon dramatic effect whose characters 
speak like men; and he fails whose personages 
declaim like orators and poets. We sympathize 
in a theater with nothing that is not natural; we 
even feel the homeliest expressions of passion, 
when they are like those of the beings around us. 
. . . Shakespeare is a greater dramatist than 
others because he is more natural. Nature is 
unchangeable ; and at this day . . . Othello speaks 
in language more akin to that of our fellows than 
his classic shadow, Zampa. The human expression 
that breathes from the lips of Lear and Macbeth 
would render them heirlooms on the stage, had 
they been otherwise on a level with the other 
writings of the day." 

Finally, the risks and difficulties that beset the 
dramatist's path, Dr. Bird was ever most frank to 
confess. Play writing he counted the most ardu- 
ous form of literary composition. "What a fool I 
was to think of writing plays," he says in his 
Secret Records. "To be sure, they are much 
wanted. But then novels are much easier sort of 
things. ... A tragedy takes, or should take, as 
much labor as two romances; and one comedy as 



FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 75 

much as six tragedies. How blessedly and lazily, 
in making a novel, a man may go spinning and 
snoring over his quires." When done, what a risk 
the play ran in the presentation ! In many cases 
the actors were so crude and amateurish that to 
entrust them with a piece was to damn it at the 
start. If discreet, he would place the burden of his 
play on two or three performers of real power, for 
most companies had no more. In fine, considering 
the oblivion, the shabby returns, the risks and 
difficulties, the exacting and varied requirements 
that lie in the way of the dramatist, "it is not 
wonderful few men have the courage to tread it. 
The marvel is that any are found so daring. ' ' 



CHAPTER V 

A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 

On February 5, 1834, Robert Montgomery Bird 
passed his twenty-eighth birthday. And indeed 
it must have been with no ordinary satisfaction. 
There was everything to fill him with pride in the 
past and hope for the future. He had written 
four tragedies of which two were soon to reach the 
height of favor on the stage. His portfolios were 
filled with plans and scenarios for new plays. With 
the American public his name alone would have 
insured further effort an appreciative hearing. 
He was a warmly admired friend of Edwin Forrest. 
He had the gift of sturdy health which, however, 
in a few years was to be his no more. And yet he 
had written his last play. The next five years 
Dr. Bird gave to a wholly different type of litera- 
ture with a productiveness and success that is 
remarkable. 

His change to the novel was due to several 
causes. First of all, Bird's strength lay rather in 
prose than in verse as an examination of his early 
pieces in Snowdens Magazine makes plain. Then, 
too, his talents, as he says in one of his letters, were 

76 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 77 

"of too discursive and diffuse a turn to shine in a 
nutshell," a fact that doubtless helped to make 
play writing the arduous task he found it. The 
drama of all forms demands brevity and compact- 
ness. A more urgent consideration still was the 
fact that the romance was the literary fashion. 
Scott abroad and Cooper in America had set the 
vogue which the young novitiate in letters, if he 
aspired to prominence, was tempted to follow. 
Much more than the drama, it afforded a career. 
The one condition of success for the dramatist, 
i.e., to have a play accepted by an actor and to 
confine its use, in manuscript, to him, virtually 
shut off his hopes as a man of letters. His only 
contact with the public was through the medium 
of a company that as often as not garbled a piece 
in presentation. Hand in hand went a remunera- 
tion so scanty that the dramatist was forced to 
other means of a livelihood. The wonder is that 
any at that time chose to write for the stage. 
"Novels," as Bird himself put it, "immortalize 
one's pocket much sooner." 

Dr. Bird's interests, as we have noted, had long 
centered in Mexican life and history. He had 
acquired the Spanish tongue, and read widely in its 
literature and annals. Among his papers are lists 
of books and scraps of Mexican chronology for a 
story he apparently intended to call Kevar, or The 
Knight of the Conquest. It was his intention, on his 
Southern trip with Forrest, to visit Mexico and 
study at first hand the peoples and customs. 



78 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Accordingly it is no surprise to find there the scene 
of his first romance. Calavar, or The Knight of the 
Conquest was finished in the early months of 1834, 
and sent to Carey, Lea & Co. , who thus acknowl- 
edged its receipt : 

Dear Doctor: 

I feel so well satisfied that your book will 
sell that I think it is better to stereotype it at 
once. If you agree with me, well — if not, I will 
send a printer to you. If you think proper you 
can send copy at once to Mr. Fagan. 
I send the Confessions and am 
Yr truly, 

H. C. Carey, 

Feb. 15. 
R. M. Bird, Esq. 

After some adjustments articles of agreement 
were drawn up April 17, 1834. According to them 
Calavar was to be stereotyped at the expense and 
risk of Carey and Lea. Sufficient copies to meet 
the demand were to be printed. Dr. Bird was to 
receive one half the proceeds of sales, after deduct- 
ing the cost of stereotyping and one half of the 
cost of paper, printing, binding, and advertising. 
The agreement was to continue seven years from 
the date of publication. Semi-annual statements 
of the sales — which fortunately have been pre- 
served — were to be sent to Dr. Bird. There were 
other stipulations of minor consequence. The 
book was copyrighted and given to the public in 
October of 1834. 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 79 

Calavar is an historical novel with a factual set- 
ting of acknowledged accuracy. It concerns the 
history of Mexico at the time of the conquest in 
1520 and depicts that full and stirring period from 
the battle between Hernando Cortez and Narvaez, 
by which Cortez possessed himself of the city of 
Zempoalla, to the famous battle of Otumba. The 
hero is a young Cavalier fresh from the siege of 
Rhodes, who comes to Mexico to attend his rela- 
tive, Calavar, as a sworn adherent. He joins the 
army of Narvaez on the eve of its defeat, accom- 
panies Cortez to Mexico, engages in the thrilling 
siege of the palace of Axajacatl and the terrible 
night -retreat from the city, and winds up his ad- 
ventures on the field of Otumba. In the mate- 
rials of the story Dr. Bird was both fortunate and 
unfortunate. Certainly, for the reader of fiction, 
here was something fresh, remote, and splendid. 
Southern life, Indian life, English life (as Ameri- 
cans conceived it) had all been treated. But 
Calavar explored a region rich in romance and 
hitherto untouched in fiction. Fortunate, too, was 
Bird's choice of the particular period, the days of 
the Conquest. A series of events lay at hand 
ready-made, which were certain to fire the imagina- 
tion, — the first push between rival invaders ter- 
minating among the burning temples of Zempoalla ; 
the march to Mexico over the field of Tlascula, 
through the ruins of Cholula, among the volcanoes; 
the entrance to the royal Tenochtitlan ; the battles 
by day and night, at the palace, in the streets, on 



80 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

the pyramids; the death of Montezuma; the ever 
memorable Noche Trieste, as it is still called by- 
Spanish writers. On the other hand, for many- 
readers the whole subject of Mexico with its 
heathendom, halfbreeds, and barbarism must have 
held slight interest. The portion of the hemisphere 
was at fault. And then Bird was forced at the 
price of almost infinite toil to get up what writers 
term local coloring. When Cooper wrote of the 
forest and the sea, he had only to call to mind the 
life he had lived, the hazards he had run, and 
the men he had met, for the furniture of a setting. 
This Bird had to acquire by poring over Mexican 
chronicles, histories, memoirs, books of travel, and 
maps. The preliminary reading for his two Mexi- 
can novels was extraordinary in range and amount. 
I find among his papers upwards of 210 finely 
written foolscap sheets of notes, chronologies, ab- 
stracts, and jottings. Among the books so sum- 
marized are Stevenson's Twenty Years' Residence 
in South America; Bernal Diaz del Castillo's True 
History of the Conquest of Mexico; Schmidtmeyer's 
Travels into Chile; De Solis's History of the Conquest 
of Mexico; Lyon's Residence and Tour in Mexico; 
Ward's Mexico in 1827; Bullock's Six Months in 
Mexico; Ulloa's A Voyage to South America; Clavi- 
gero's Mexico. There is a list of seventeen titles 
for additional reading. That Bird was success- 
ful in his protraiture both Prescott and Parkman 
have borne witness. 

With its obvious defects, Calavar has some 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 81 

merits of first excellence. The historical novel is 
an exacting form to work in by reason of the double 
task it places on the writer. He must first of all 
have a fairly accurate groundwork of facts. Actual 
men and affairs must be presented as history 
knows them. But the facts of history are mostly 
gray, lifeless, and like broken torsos must be 
pieced out and suffused with being. To do this he 
must have the constructive imagination. He must 
lift facts from the dull level of exposition and see 
"living men in the old documents." These two 
demands Calavar meets with rare success. In it 
are set forth with as lifelike actuality as anywhere 
in fiction the heroes of the Conquest of Mexico. 
Again the prose of the book entitled Bird to rank 
as an author. Although at times too full and dis- 
cursive, it is easy, flexible, when need be dramatic, 
and vividly pictorial. Bird's descriptions won the 
critics to a man. Quotation would be tedious and 
we can only mention the account of the night 
approach to Zempoalla, the description of Cortez 
and his trusty band when discovered encamped 
in the near-by valley, the Night of Sorrow, and the 
disastrous retreat from the capital. The wealth 
of stirring episode has been already mentioned. 
Dr. Bird possessed as his own, it is to be recalled, 
the playwright's cunning at dramatic narrative. 
Of the many well-drawn characters in the book 
perhaps the sharpest or subtlest are Calavar, 
Amador de Leste, Abdalla, Jacinto, Bordello. 
One other feature of Calavar deserves mention 



82 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

because it characterizes all his novels, its fullness 
and intricacy of plot. 

In the spring of 1834, before Calavar appeared, 
Dr. Bird took his only trip to Europe. It was his 
intention to remain in England some months, 
possibly a year, to meet the men of letters, ac- 
quaint himself with English life, and supervise an 
English edition of Calavar, a manuscript of which 
he took with him. Again his many friends supplied 
him with letters of introduction. Forrest gave him 
one to James Wallack, who was to introduce him 
further to "the elite of our calling." Harpers were 
to send him one to Bulwer. James Lawson, ever 
the best of friends, gave him a number, — to James 
Hogg, Scott's friend, "the most remarkable man 
that ever wore the maud of a shepherd " ; to 
Robert Chambers of the Edinburgh Journal; and to 
Wilson, ' ' the Professor. ' ' With the letter to Wilson 
went an admonition. "Don't seem to care a 

d about him. Talk of eating, drinking, boxing, 

walking, fishing, anything but letters. Let him 
rather seek your notice than you his. Manage 
well and he will grapple you to his heart. ' ' Another 
was to acquaint him with Mrs. Hemans. It is 
pleasant to think of Bird on this trip, with a past 
of honor and a future of promise, twenty-eight 
years old, and, as his passport has it, five feet 
eleven inches tall, high forehead, light eyes and 
hair, and a fair full face, sailing off to England on 
the Pocahontas with Captain West, April 18, 1834. 
Dr. Bird arrived at Liverpool May 13th, he 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 83 

wrote to his mother, ' ' after a short but very bois- 
terous passage of only sixteen days from land to 
land, though of twenty-two from city to city, owing 
to four days detention in the Delaware and two 
in the Irish Channel." After a short sight -seeing 
tour through Chester, the Welsh mountains, 
"Shakespeare's den," the school cotes of Oxford, 
and Windsor, he settled in London at No. 3 Adam 
Street, Adelphi, May 25th. ' ' My lodging house, ' ' 
he writes, "is within one hundred feet of the 
Thames, my windows look on it; a fine terrace, 
some forty or fifty above the water, runs along it 
for about a square. From that terrace, I can see 
on the left hand, St. Paul's; on the right, West- 
minster Abbey; without counting a brace of stone 
bridges with twelve or fifteen high arches each, or 
towers and steeples in abundance." Thus com- 
fortably quartered, Bird went about the business 
for which he had primarily come, an English edi- 
tion of Calavar, and here it was that he met with a 
rebuff that ever afterward cooled his feelings for 
English publishers, and to an extent, for English 
authors. The situation seems to have been this. 
English publishers of the day would not pay any- 
thing for the first work of an unknown author. 
They would, however, accept it for nothing, and 
publish it. If the first was successful, a second 
work would command a fair price. As Bird wrote 
to the Misses Mayer, "After all my modest un- 
assuming hopes to make a fortune out of the Lon- 
doners, they bid very fair to out-Herod Herod, or 



84 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

what is the same thing, to out- Yankee Yankee. 
In other words, as I begin to have the comfortable 
assurance they will have Calavar from me for 
nothing, or not have him at all. I hear on all 
hands how necessary it is that an author should 
sacrifice his first work, especially a foreign one; 
and I begin to perceive that I must fall into ranks 
and do as my betters have done before me. This 
seems a pretty state of things, indeed, that an 
author should give a bookseller one book for the 
privilege of selling him a second; but this is the 
misfortune of being unknown, as is unfortunately 
my case. Among the herd of scribblers in Great 
Britain, notoriety is the only mark of genius for a 
bookseller ; none of these brain merchants will keep 
a neophyte on pay while he is creeping up hill. 
But there is this satisfaction in store, that after 
he is up hill, he can make the rascals pay the back 
account. This is my hope. " He consulted Bulwer 
on the matter, who ' ' swears first works are always 
sacrificed." 1 

It was not alone his treatment from the book- 
trade that caused a smart. At the time of Bird's 
visit to England Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer was 
the literary dictator. He was the popular favorite, 
"the prince of living novelists. " Bulwer had early 
perceived the revolution in taste and had dispensed 
with the hero of action for "the hero of observation 
and reflection, who did not do great things, but 
who said good things. The sentimental dandies 

1 Dr. Bird to Miss Mary Mayer, June 25, 1834. 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 85 

and high-toned villains of Bulwer's earlier novels 
captivated all hearts." 1 Bird met Bulwer, had 
an interview, and ostensibly by arrangement sub- 
mitted for judgment the whole first volume of 
Calavar. After a suitable time and no reply was 
forthcoming, a request for the return of the manu- 
script was made; but again no reply was returned. 
Among Bird's papers, I find three drafts of a 
second request dated July 7, 1834, varying in tone 
from polite disgust to bitterest sarcasm . To which - 
ever was sent, Bulwer replied as follows: 

Sir, 

I am very sorry that my absence from the city 
has occasioned so much inconvenience to you 
relative to your work. I much regret that what 
with the illness of one of my family and an un- 
usual pressure of affairs, I have not been able to 
give any detailed inspection to your Ms. But 
as far as I have been able to go, I have been much 
struck with the force and vigour of the style and 
I do not doubt that if the whole resembles the 
part, it will do you much credit in the publica- 
tion. Had we both had more time to spare I 
would have read it thro' more carefully and 
expressed my opinion more critically. 
Yr. ably, 

E. L. Bulwer. 2 

To one whose patience was already tried, this letter 
contained additional cause for offense, — the delay, 

1 Lounsbury, Cooper, pp. 124-5. 

2 This letter is among the Bird MSS. in the Library of the Uni- 
versity of Pennsylvania. 



86 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

the partial reading, the indifference, the moderate 
praise of the style. It is not surprising that Bird 
decided to return to America at once "instead of 
living here expensively and largely for the good 
of the trade." Accordingly he took passage on the 
Carroll of Carrollton with his brother Capt. Thomas 
Jefferson Bird, sailing from Liverpool July 20, 1834. 

The reception of Calavar, if cool at the hands of 
English bookmen, at home was cordial and appre- 
ciative. Within a year of its issue a first edition 
had sold. The reviewers, without exception, 
praised it warmly. Poe in one of his articles 
pronounced it "beyond doubt one of the best 
American novels." "We do not scruple," ran The 
Baltimore Gazette, ' ' to pronounce it superior to any- 
thing of the kind which has yet emanated from the 
American press." The Knickerbocker Magazine 
said of it, "We shall be exceedingly mistaken if the 
work does not place the author in the very highest 
rank among the writers of America." Others 
more enthusiastic could be given. In any case 
Dr. Bird was encouraged to proceed rapidly with 
another, and in May, 1835, appeared The Infidel, 
or The Fall of Mexico. 

Among the first to read The Infidel was Bird's 
friend James Lawson. He wrote to Dr. Bird a 
frank critique which is of first interest in the light 
of Bird's reply. Juan and Magdalena, Lawson 
thought, were too passive. The Infidel King and 
his beautiful sister are fine creations, but our sym- 
pathies are not sufficiently awakened in their fate; 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 87 

we do not weep over the fall of the Infidel City. 
And, then, too, there might have been more action. 
"Of a tragedy, so of a novel," runs Lawson's letter, 
"action, action, action is the first and last in- 
gredient." 1 These points Bird thus meets, in a 
carefully written draft of a reply: "Your stric- 
tures on The Infidel, especially the approbatory 
ones, are very just. But that confounded sym- 
pathy of yours I do not understand. I did not 
want to make anybody 'weep ' over the fall of the 
Mexicans. All I desired was to illustrate their 
heroic resistance at their altars and their fires of 
a scoundrelly foe, whom I desired to paint in his 
true colors also; as I think I have done. The 
character of Juan I meant to be 'passive.' In 
fact, I was drawing the character of a dog I knew 
once who was a very fine Christian -like animal, 
for all the hard treatment he had. You certainly 
are wrong about the 'action, action, action' being 
as necessary in a novel as in a play. The deepest 
interest can be drawn from the sufferings of in- 
dividuals incapable of resisting their fate, and 
even when they attempt no resistance. Such is 
found in The Bride of Lammermoor, where the 
heroine is wax and the hero lead, clay, water, or 
anything. And that fiction, if you will take my 
word for it, is the most interesting and deeply 
affecting ever penned by the hand of man. The 
actors do nothing; but how one's tears drop over 
them; — nay over their memory. Five minutes 

1 Lawson to Bird, May 26, 1835. 



88 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

musing over the recollection of that story incapaci- 
tates me for writing a day; reading it robs me of all 
power of composition for a week. However, I 
know it is needful to make a grand crash in every 
tenth chapter of my fiddle-de-dees ; and my up- 
Delaware book shall have at least one roaring 
piece of big figure in it." 1 

The story of Calavar terminates on the field of 
Otumba after the expulsion of the Spaniards from 
Mexico. That of The Infidel starts at the period 
when Cortes, receiving a new commission from 
Charles the Fifth and a great accession of Spanish 
troops and allies, returns to commence the league 
that ends in the fall of Mexico. The individual 
history of Juan Lerma, deftly woven in with the 
real events of the siege, constitutes the fable. 
From the same quarry as Calavar, The Infidel 
shows no signs of imitation or exhaustion. It is 
as full, striking, picturesque; and with even more 
passion and feeling. For a narrative description 
of unsurpassed interest one need only mention 
the account of Guzman's ordeal on the warrior's 
stone. To this stone, called the Temalacatl, now 
lying in the Plaza Mayor of the modern city, cap- 
tives of excelling prowess were bound by one foot 
and forced to fight to the death six native warriors, 
after which, if they survived, they were freed and 
sent home. The characterization deserves mention 
in one respect. Cortes himself is a leading charac- 
ter. And the important part he takes gives ample 

1 Bird to Lawson, June i, 1835. 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 89 

opportunity for the display of the author's powers 
in that most difficult department of historical 
novel writing, the correct delineation of real 
people. The character of Cortes, drawn from 
authentic data by Bird, is that by which posterity 
perhaps can best know him. It bears the stamp of 
actuality and truth. The book contains an array, 
too large, perhaps, of big characters, — Guatimazin, 
Cortes, Guzman, Lerma, Lord of Death, Magda- 
lena, Zellahualla. As with Calavar the plot of 
The Infidel is almost confusingly tangled and in- 
tricate. The solution draws on relationships that 
run back to a previous generation, and are un- 
known or have dropped from memory. Thus it is 
with Camarja's strange relations with Juan and 
Magdalena, and theirs with Cortes. 

The Infidel sold rather better than Calavar and 
in August of 1835 — it appeared in May — Carey, 
Lea & Company announced a second edition to 
meet the demand. And yet the sale was not in 
step with the merit of the book. The reason Law- 
son hits on in that same letter: "Twixt you and 
me, " he said, "I am not sorry you are done with 
Mexico. I fear the novel-reading world do not 
feel the same interest in the semi-civilized portion 
of our hemisphere, which you entertain. We want 
something, though not exactly at our doors, yet 
near us." The justness of this critique Bird ac- 
knowledged. "You are right about my Mexican 
subjects; they are too far-offish and Hebraic for 
our Johnny Raws of the States, who know and 



90 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

care as little about Mexico as they do about the 
moon. My success in them has been nothing to 
compare with Simms's, which I esteem quite ex- 
traordinary: I feel very envious about him, but 
not in a malicious way." While still occupied 
with the proof sheets of The Infidel, Dr. Bird was 
also engaged on the "Up-Delaware book" which 
appeared in September, 1835, as The Hawks of 
Hawk Hollow, A Tradition of Pennsylvania. 

In this story Bird heeded Lawson's advice and 
laid the scene near his own doorsill in the Delaware 
valley at the beautiful Water Gap, whither as a 
medical student with Dr. Black and John Grimes 
he often went to camp and sketch. The story of 
the young painter and his chums, and of course the 
novel's setting are built on these early experiences. 
The story takes us back to 1760 and concerns an 
English family by the name of Gilbert, who had 
settled in the valley near the Gap, its disintegra- 
tion through the mysterious death of the only 
daughter, in which Colonel Falconer, the present 
occupant of the Manor, was questionably im- 
plicated, the revenge by the sons of Gilbert, known 
throughout the section for their desperate charac- 
ter as the Hawks of Hawk Hollow. Woven in is 
the love story of Hyland Gilbert, who proves to be 
no other than the legitimate son of Colonel Fal- 
coner and his early lost bride, Jessie Gilbert. One 
is reminded in reading The Hawks of Hawk 
Hollow of a letter to Bird from Nathaniel Parker 
Willis, to whom Bird sent a set of his books. ' ' I 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 91 

wonder in reading these, " it runs, "how you could 
afford to put so much material into a book. You 
see I look at it with an author's eye. ' ' * The plot is 
bewilderingly complex. There is a hurry and rush 
of episode. Again the assortment of big characters 
is ampler perhaps than the needs of one story, — 
Colonel Falconer, a hard, unemotional, dominating 
man with a past ; Harriet Falconer, a daughter of 
her father; Hyland Gilbert, a highbred lad with a 
heart of honor and the instincts of a gentleman; 
Oran Gilbert, "rough, unswayable, and free"; 
Catharine Loring, feminine, amiable, lovely. Poe 
found in the books all sorts of flaws and beauties. 
"Its style, as we commonly use the word, is at 
least equal to that of any American writer whatso- 
ever." Its un evenness of course struck him. 
"Some portions of the book, we surmise, were 
either not written by Dr. Bird or were written by 
him in moments of the most utter mental exhaus- 
tion," a condition Poe must have shared while 
writing the review. " It is in many respects a bad 
imitation of Sir Walter Scott." In the next sen- 
tence Poe continues, "Some of its characters and 
one or two of its incidents have seldom been sur- 
passed, for force, fidelity to nature, and power of 
exciting interest in the reader." Be this as it may, 
its demand showed a steady appreciation. By 
May of 1836, seven months after its issue, the 
first statement from Carey & Lea records a sale 
of 1 860 copies. 

1 Willis to Bird, letter undated. 



92 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

In the fall of 1835 Bird took another short 
jaunt through the Middle West, leaving by way of 
Virginia. On September 24th he writes from 
Guyandotte, Virginia : " I am in a little village in 
the extreme N. W. corner of the Cohee land, 150 m. 
from Cincinnati, and about 170 from Lexington, 
Ky. ; whitherward I hope to be able to proceed in a 
steamboat to-morrow. " On October 6th he writes 
from Three Forks, Ky. : "Here I am within seven 
miles of the Mammoth Cave, and with my old 
friend Grimes taking a nap at my elbow. We are 
going to the cave to-morrow, where we expect to be 
joined by one or two other gentlemen to have a 
time of it caving, shooting, and fishing together 
for ten days or two weeks." On October 16th he 
writes from the steamboat Huntress off Cincinnati : 
' ' I am now on the way home, having visited the 
Mammoth Cave, and resolved to return by the 
easiest route; for in truth I am tired of rolling in 
bad coaches over bad roads." The trip was sig- 
nificant for two reasons. Bird and Grimes again 
explored the great cave to its innermost depths, 
among the first Americans to do so. This expedi- 
tion Dr. Bird vividly described in a section of 
Peter Pilgrim. He also visited the scenes, we are 
told, that were to figure in his next romance. 
Besides, it was the last time Bird was to see his 
friend John Grimes, who died of consumption in 
the winter of 1837, holding in his hand a letter of 
Bird's to the last. Through the rest of his life the 
name of "Johnny Grimes" was Bird's strongest 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 93 

synonym for unselfishness and perfect friend- 
ship. 

In August of 1836 came the anonymous work 
entitled Sheppard Lee, published by Harpers. 
The book was so entirely unlike any that Bird had 
done hitherto that John Frost, his close friend, 
wrote to him as follows : 

Phila., Feb. 2, 1836. 

Dear Bird, 

M'Clellen has taken up an absurd notion that 
you are the author of a book called Sheppard 
Lee published in New York last summer. He 
came to me full of his discovery last night expect- 
ing to find that I knew something about it. 
Knowing that you would be amazed at such an 
imputation and believing that he would had 
you to suspect if possible that I had counte- 
nanced the [idea] I write to clear myself of even 
giving the slightest intimation to that effect to 
him or any one living. I would come to you 
but I am lame and so write. 

Yours truly, 
J. Frost. 

Bird's reply, if he wrote one, has not been found, 
but there must have been an amusing confession 
and absolution when they met, as their warm 
friendship suffered no interruption. 

Sheppard Lee might be called a psychological 
novel. It recounts a series of mental and bodily 
states through which Sheppard Lee, a New Jersey 
farmer and an acute hypochondriac, mysteriously 
passes. Disappointed in love and forced through 



94 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

mismanagement to forfeit the family estate, he 
goes to a near-by graveyard and proceeds to dig for 
a mysterious treasure. He strikes rock with such 
force as to precipitate a trance from which his soul 
insensibly emerges into the body of John Hazle- 
wood Higginson, an influential colonel. He is 
driven in a splendid barouche to the Higginson 
house in Philadelphia, Chestnut St., south side, 
etc., and installed into all that went with it, — 
servants, the gout, and a nagging, perverse Mrs. 
Higginson. With the gout and a shrew on his 
hands, the poor chap pardonably thinks of suicide. 
He gradually makes the acquaintance of his aristo- 
cratic neighbors, among others, Mr. Periwinckle 
Smith, whose charming daughter is the cause of 
insomnia to a polished dandy by the name of 
Isaac Dulwer Dawkins, Esq. Driven to frenzy 
by envy and hardship, he resolves upon jumping 
into the Schuylkill, goes to its banks for the pur- 
pose, but beholds I. Dulwer Dawkins already there 
on the same errand. He recovers the body and 
regains consciousness to find himself the very 
same I. Dulwer Dawkins, Esq. He becomes full 
possessor of his character and effects, — beauty, 
dash, scores of admiring ladies, plenty of poor 
relatives, and debts by the hundreds. He is en- 
tangled in countless intrigues, but finally marries 
Alicia Skinner, the miller's daughter, when — the 
worse luck of all ! — he suddenly inhabits the corpse 
of her father, Abram Skinner, a soured, tricky 
pawnbroker with a rebellious daughter. From 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 95 

such a despicable carcass the soul of Sheppard Lee 
devoutly implores release. He looks about for a 
desirable corpse and finds that of a philanthropic 
Quaker, Zachariah Longstraw. Three further 
abodes the wandering soul of Lee occupies, when 
at last he imagines himself a cadaver under the 
scalpel of a German student, Dr. Feuertaufel. 
This scares him back into sanity ; he flees ; nor does 
he stop until he has reached his old Jersey farm, 
which his relatives have been good enough to 
reserve for him. Here he shakes off his hypo- 
chondria and finds himself once more Sheppard 
Lee. 

Sheppard Lee is, as Poe put it, "a very clever 
and not altogether unoriginal jeu d' esprit." Its 
incidents are well conceived, and related with 
force, brevity, and a directness admirably suited 
to such narratives. Poe, a master hand at such 
narrative, found fault with ' ' the conception of the 
metempsychosis. He (Bird) conceives his hero 
endowed with some idiosyncrasy beyond the 
common lot of human nature and thus introduces 
him to a series of adventures which under ordinary 
circumstances could occur only to a plurality of 
persons. The chief source of interest in such a 
narrative is or should be the contrasting of these 
varied events in their influence upon a character 
unchanging — except as changed by the events 
themselves." Poe further thought it a mistake to 
leave the reader at the end with the impression 
that the whole is a dream. His own method, Poe 



96 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

thought, would have been better i.e., "avoiding 
. . . that directness of expression which we have 
noticed in Sheppard Lee and thus leaving much to 
the imagination ... in short, by making use of 
the infinity of arts which give verisimilitude to a 
narration — and by leaving the result as a wonder 
not to be accounted for." Finally, it is to be 
noticed, the hand of the physician is plainly ob- 
servable. Doctors play a prominent part. The 
effects of mental derangement, — the fear, the 
harping on one thing, the excitement, the night- 
mare, are analyzed with the technical insight of a 
physician. Sheppard Lee received from the press 
the most favorable notices, but never enjoyed a 
large sale. Its first edition appeared when the 
book trade, on account of hard times, was in a 
most depressed condition. Its publishers issued a 
second edition with the revival of business, which, 
however, sold hardly better than the first ; and as 
late as 1839 they were negotiating with Lea & 
Blanchard to dispose of their interest in the stereo- 
type plates of Sheppard Lee and the printed copies 
on hand. 

In March of 1837 Dr. Bird's most successful 
story, Nick of the Woods, was published by Lea & 
Blanchard. The suggestion for the story, it is to 
be recalled, Bird had received many years before 
from his Kentucky friend Dr. Black while they 
were together on a stroll. On his western trips 
he visited the scenes of the story and gathered 
further material. The characters in some instances 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 97 

were built on actual people. Ralph Stackpole, 
Bird tells us in the preface, "is no portrait drawn 
from imagination. The history of this wild scape- 
gallows, his prowess in the pinfold and the battle- 
field, his adventure in the beech tree, and his 
escape from the meshes of the law, with other 
characteristic events not included in our relation, 
are recollections still cherished in some parts of 
Kentucky, and made the theme of many a glee- 
some story." The story of Wandering Nathan 
"has a similar foundation in truth; but its origin 
belongs to one of the western counties of Pennsyl- 
vania. ' ' Here was a legend sufficiently near home 
to hold the interest, sufficiently strange to stir 
curiosity. It delineated that most picturesque 
character which both Cooper and Simms had 
drawn on effectively, — the American Indian. But 
how differently each conceived him! Cooper, of 
course, has idealized the Indian in such characters 
as Uncas and Chingachgook. Simms had studied 
him through books and observation as well, and 
has given us perhaps the truest picture. "From 
the day," says Professor Trent, his biographer, 
' ' when he saw scores of drunken and naked Creeks 
lying about the streets of Mobile, he was thor- 
oughly alive to their vices ; but from the time of his 
sojourns in both Creek and Cherokee 'Nations' 
he had also been fully conscious of their many 
undeniable virtues." Bird paints the Indian 
frankly and unreservedly in the darkest colors. 
He confessed himself quite unable to share the 



98 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

kindly view of the Indian held by other writers. 
Chateaubriand, Cooper, Marmontel throw a poeti- 
cal illusion, he thought, over the Indian character. 
He drew them as in his judgment they existed, — 
"ignorant, violent, debased, brutal." Further- 
more, he resented the opinion expressed by Mr. 
W. H. Ainsworth in his English edition of Nick of 
the Woods that the book was designed to inflame 
the whites against the Indians, or to justify the 
encroachments by the whites on Indian territory. 
"We confess," he says in a prefatory statement, 
' ' the North American savage has never appeared 
to us the gallant and heroic personage he seems to 
others. The fact that he wages war — systematic 
war — upon beings incapable of resistance or defense 
— upon women and children, whom all other races 
in the world, no matter how barbarous, consent to 
spare, has hitherto been, and we suppose to the 
end of our days will remain, a stumbling-block to 
our imagination; we look into the woods for the 
mighty warrior, the 'feather cinctured chief,' 
rushing to meet his foe and behold him retiring 
laden with the scalps of miserable squaws and their 
babes. Heroical? Hoc verbum quid valeat, non 
vicent" 

Rapidly as Bird's novels succeeded one another, 
he found time also to write for the magazines which 
were springing up in America during the first half 
of the century with the utmost variety and pro- 
fusion. A strong sectional feeling throughout the 
States tended to multiply the number. Most of 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 99 

them, modeled on the English literary journals, — 
Blackwood's, Frazers, The Edinburgh Review, — had 
high ambitions and were incessant in their requests 
upon men like Dr. Bird, whose romances had 
brought him impressively before the public. Be- 
sides, Bird numbered among his friends W. Gay- 
lord and L. Gaylord Clark, James Lawson, 
Thomas Cottrel Clarke, Charles Fenno Hoffman, 
Samuel A. Howe, N. C. Brooks, and others. It 
was inevitable that he should sooner or later be 
concerned with the periodical, as contributor or 
owner. Bird's juvenile pieces in Snowden's have 
already been noticed. Early in the thirties Louis 
A. Godey, who in July of 1830 had founded his 
popular Lady's Book, asked Bird for articles, or if 
he had none on hand "to hammer me out of one 
of your solid pieces about twenty-five dollars' worth 
of Literature." In January of 1834 appeared a 
new periodical edited by Henry Vethake, Esq., 
called The United States Review. It was a quar- 
terly of some 250 pages and was to be concerned, 
ran the Prospectus, with "the exploits of the his- 
torian, the orator, and the poet rather than with 
those of the mathematician . ' ' For the first number 
Bird was asked to write an article on "Reviewing," 
and to become a regular contributor. Of course 
numerous bits of verse, struck off, his wife tells us, 
in moments of relaxation, appeared from time to 
time. In March of 1834 "The Beech Tree," a lyric, 
appeared in the New York Mirror; in January, 1835, 
"The China Tree," another, in Knickerbocker's; 



ioo LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

in February, 1835, in the New England Magazine 
"To Governor M'Duffie," an occasional poem de- 
nouncing the Governor of South Carolina who in 
the nullification squabble called the Constitution 
of the United States ' ' that miserable mockery of 
blurred and obliterated and tattered parchment." 
"An Evening Ode" appeared in Knickerbocker's, 
February, 1835 ; "An Address," an occasional poem 
at the Wood Complimentary Benefit, in The 
National Gazette, January, 1836. Poe had for 
some time desired Bird to contribute to the 
Southern Literary Messenger. Other duties made 
it impossible for Bird to comply. In consequence 
Poe repeated his request. 

Richmond, Va., 
June 7, 1836. 

Dr. Sir, 

I take the liberty of again addressing you, 
and of calling your attention to what was not 
precisely a promise on your part, but a kind of 
demi-promise made some months ago, in rela- 
tion to an article for our Southern Literary 
Messenger. It would be indeed, a matter of 
sincere congratulation with us, if, by any means 
within our power, we could so far interest you 
in our behalf as to obtain something from the 
author of Calavar. We have, just at this 
moment, a conspiracy on foot, and we would be 
most happy to engage you in our plans. We 
wish, if possible, to take the public opinion by 
storm in a single number of The Messenger which 
shall contain a series of articles from all the first 
pens in the land. Can you not aid us — with a 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 101 

single page if no more ? I will trust to the chival- 
ric spirit of him who wrote The Infidel for a reply. 
With the highest respect, 

Yr. ob. st. 
Dr. Robert M. Bird. Edgar A. Poe 1 

One article contributed by Dr. Bird to Knicker- 
bocker's in October, 1835, is of significance in the 
history of international copyright. It is entitled 
" Community of Copy-Right Between the United 
States and Great Britian." After a short state- 
ment of the injustice of the world to authors and 
inventors generally, he takes occasion to score the 
copyright laws then in force in America. The act 
of the third of February, 1831, he points out, ex- 
tends the privileges of copyright "to any person or 
persons, being a citizen or citizens of the United 
States, or resident therein, who shall be the author 
or authors of any book or books," etc., and to no 
others. "To be a citizen, or a resident of the 
United States, is therefore essential, by law, to the 
enjoyment of the privilege. The restriction is 
positive, and peculiar to America, which, in it, 
excels all other governments in rapacity and mean- 
ness." From the provision, he thought, a twofold 
injustice results. In the first place British authors 
received no returns whatever from the sale of their 
books in this country. "Walter Scott never re- 
ceived a cent on the sale of his works in America, " 

1 This letter is in the Archives of the Historical Society of 
Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. For a list of Dr. Bird's contribu- 
tions to the magazines see Appendix B. 



102 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

although New York did raise a subscription, it was 
said, of sixty thousand dollars "to rescue Abbots- 
ford from the hands of the creditors, and secure it 
to the heirs of the great novelist." By far the 
greater hardship, however, was wrought upon the 
American author. Paying nothing to the British 
author, the American publisher selected what 
foreign works he chose, and issued them at a 
very low price, content to receive the bookseller's 
profit. An American work, on the other hand, 
had to bring a price which secured a remuneration 
to the author as well as the publisher. In conse- 
quence the former invariably undersold the latter. 
As Dr. Bird put it, "It is indeed egregious non- 
sense to expect an American book to leave the 
bookseller's shelves, when an English reprint lies 
by it, of equal merit and one half the price." The 
burden of the article in brief was that the act of 
1 83 1, purified by the removal of the clause above 
quoted, "would be tantamount in effect to the 
passage of an international copyright law betwixt 
America and Great Britain." 

As a consequence of this article, in part at least, 
Dr. Bird received the following letter from Harriet 
Martineau, urging his aid in pushing a petition 
regarding international copyright. It was accom- 
panied by a petition, which incorporated many of 
Bird's views and, it seems, specifically referred to a 
portion of the Knickerbocker article. l 

1 The petition in part ran as follows: "American authors are 
injured by the non-existence of the desired law. While American 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 103 

London, Novbr. 8, 1836. 
Dear Sir, 

This petition tells its own story, — except that 
you do not see the signatures. It is very illus- 
triously signed. We hope the names of Broug- 
ham, Wordsworth, and Miss Edgeworth will be 
at the top. 

The Americans in London urge that the 
Authors of the United States shd. petition Con- 
gress, — both houses, — to the same effect, at the 
same time : I have written to most of my literary 
friends, to rouse them to this. If it could be 
done, we should we are told pretty certainly 
have the desired law this session. You see how 
close an interest you Amern. authors have in our 
property not being stolen to enrich the book- 
sellers and lessen the value of your works. 

If you can do anything in this matter, I am 
sure you will : not making confidants of any book- 
sellers, but communicating with brother and 
sister authors. 

I make no apology for writing to you on this 
subject : for we each desire the welfare of science 

publishers can provide themselves with works for publication by 
unjust appropriation, instead of by equitable purchase, they are 
under no inducement to afford to American authors a fair re- 
muneration for their labors: under which grievance American 
authors have no redress but in sending over their works to Eng- 
land to be published, an expedient which has become an estab- 
lished practice with some of whom their country has most reason 
to be proud. . . . Your petitioners beg humbly to remind your 
Honors of the case of Walter Scott, as stated by an esteemed 
citizen of the United States, that while the works of this author, 
dear alike to your country and to ours, were read from Maine to 
Georgia, from the Atlantic to the Mississippi, he received no 
remuneration from the American public for his labors." The 
Critic, April 21, 1888. 



104 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

and literature; and have each a personal interest 
in the passage of this Law. Believe me, dear 
Sir, 

Very truly yours, 

Harriet Martineau. 
Dr. Bird, 
Philada., Pa. 

Notwithstanding their cause was a common one, 
Dr. Bird in a draft of a reply to Miss Martineau, 
January 20, 1837, roundly attacks the petition. 
To his mind, it was singularly injudicious and ob- 
jectionable; it was too argumentative and exhorta- 
tory ; it breathed a tone of complaint and reproach. 
Furthermore, it denounced a respectable class of 
American citizens, the booksellers. It made a 
tactless reference to the prejudices of purchasers 
in "the respective sections of the Union," which 
was an invasion of our private concerns. He 
advises a revision of the petition so that it would 
be "a petition in fact, — a simple, briefly expressed 
and dignified claim to a privilege which they think 
they should be allowed to enjoy. ' ' 

Two other works require mention with the 
romances of Dr. Bird. Peter Pilgrim, or A Ram- 
bler s Recollections, published by Lea & Blanchard 
in October of 1838, is a collection of tales and 
experiences gathered on his trips through the 
South and West. Two of the pieces had appeared 
in the American Monthly, — "A Tale of the Snag" 
and ' ' The Mammoth Cave ' ' ; another, ' ' The Extra 
Lodger," was published in the New York Mirror. 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 105 

The most interesting chapters of a rather indiffer- 
ent collection are those on the Mammoth Cave. 
Caves had long been a special study with Dr. Bird. 
With John Grimes he was among the first to ex- 
plore this biggest of caves, and to set forth an 
accurate account of its grottoes, pits, and galleries. 
The rest of the recollections comprises a mis- 
cellaneous collection of odds and ends. According 
to Mrs. Bird, Dr. Bird's health had begun to 
break and he was obliged to throw together his 
materials for the volume more hastily than was his 
wont. The Adventures of Robin Day, his last 
romance, was published in April, 1839, and was 
written under stress of great physical suffering. 
It is a rather loose-woven yarn of improbable 
adventures. The earlier portion, however, is of 
autobiographical value ; and according to his wife, 
"embodied a good deal of his own youthful ex- 
perience at school." 1 

Bird's romances, in America, brought a fair re- 
muneration. His precise returns it is, of course, 
impossible to fix; but from accounts in his own 
hand and from the semi-annual ' ' statements " from 
his publishers some idea can be had of his income. 
The following table is based upon these semi- 
annual statements, and indicates the number of 

1 Deserving mention with the romances of Dr. Bird is the frag- 
ment of an Indian story entitled Ipsico Poe, the Long Hunter. 
Bird stopped with chapter xiv., at which point it was taken up 
by his son Frederick Mayer Bird, and completed. It was pub- 
lished under the title A Belated Revenge in Lippincott's Magazine, 
November, 1889. 



106 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

copies sold and Bird's share of the profits, of his 
four chief romances. 

R. M. Bird in acct. with 

Carey & Lea, Lea & Blanchard. 

Calavar (pub. Oct., 1834) Infidel (pub. May, 183s) 

Date of Statement No. sold Bird's prof. No. sold Bird's prof. 

May 7, 1835 1292 $356.28 

Nov. 12, 1835 303 161.23 1551 $650.35 

May 9, 1836 .... .... .... 

Dec. 31, 1836 442 174-43 308 9442 

Jan. 1, 1838 234 25.75 80 14.40 

March 18, 1839 278 60.16 154 36.60 



Hawks of Hawk Hollow Nick of the Woods 

(pub. Sept., 183s) (pub. March, 1837) 

No. sold Bird's prof. No. sold Bird's prof. 



i860 $779-03 

248 83.9O 

I30 26.13 2447 $1150-37 

183 43.40 281 144-27 

Bird's novels were also published in England by 
Bentley and others, in several cases with altered 
titles. Calavar was published in four volumes in 
1835 by Newman & Co., London, as Abdalla, the 
Moor, and the Spanish Knight. The Infidel ap- 
peared in a London edition of three volumes in 
1835 as Cortes: or The Fall of Mexico. The Hawks 
of Hawk Hollow was similarly published in 1837 
under its own name. London editions of Peter 
Pilgrim and of Robin Day, each in two volumes, 
appeared in 1839 and the most successful of his 
stories, abroad as at home, was Nick of the Woods, 
which first appeared in London in three volumes in 



A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 107 

1837, edited byW. H. Ainsworth. It ran through 
a number of editions and was translated into 
German, — Die Gefahren der Wildnis. Eine Erzah- 
lung fur die reifere Jugend. Nach dem Englis- 
chen (Nick of the Wood) bearbeitet von Franz 
Hoffmann. Mit Bildern. Stuttgart, 1847, 8°. 
From these foreign editions Dr. Bird, according to 
his wife, received nothing, except that unsubstan- 
tial phantom, reputation. l 

1 See Appendix A. Three of Bird's novels were dramatized 
The Infidel was dramatized by Benjamin H. Brewster and played 
in Philadelphia in 1835; The Hawks of Hawk Hollow was put on the 
stage in 1841; Nick of the Woods was dramatized by Louisa 
Medina in 1838 and proved one of the most successful melo- 
dramas of the time. 



CHAPTER VI 

MARRIAGE, FARMING, TEACHING, AND POLITICS 

In order to treat together the novels of Dr. Bird, 
we have advanced our story to the year 1839. In 
so doing we have run ahead somewhat of his per- 
sonal narrative. To this we must now turn and 
record two events that were to be of largest con- 
sequence, — his marriage and his failing health. 

In the copious assortment of letters for the year 
1837 there is one of special interest. It is written 
by Dr. Bird to his favorite cousin, Dorcas Van 
Dyke, then Mrs. Charles Irenee Du Pont. 

Philada., July 9, 1837. 

My dear Cousin, 

I send you word by Mr. Du Pont that I should 
be extremely happy if your health and con- 
venience would permit you to be present at a 
certain wedding about to take place, and en- 
gaged to give you early information of the day 
thereof. The day is now appointed, — Thursday 
next, at half past eleven in the morning, the 
ceremony to take place at church where I 
repeat it will give me great pleasure to see you. 
Although in church the wedding is to be entirely 
private, I inviting (besides mother and Miss 
Kitty who will be present of course) nobody but 
108 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 109 

yourself and Mr. Du Pont and also little cousin 
Mary, who is invited by her cousin that is to be. 
The ceremony over, I carry my bride home, 
where, after receiving a few of her friends, we 
shall have a family dinner to which I also in- 
vite you. I should ask you in addition to take 
up quarters with us ; but I suppose we shall have 
to surrender all extra space for the honey-days 
to my new sisters. 

Pray consider this news as confidential (the 
day and the place are both a secret) and believe 
me 

Your affectionate cousin 

Robt. M. Bird. 
Mrs. Dorcas M. Du Pont 
Louviers 

near Brandywine, Delaware. 



It was thus that Bird announced his marriage, 
which took place on Thursday morning, July 13, 
1837. His bride was Miss Mary Mayer, daughter 
of the Rev. Philip F. Mayer, who performed the 
ceremony in his own church, old St. John's, Race 
Street, above Fifth, Philadelphia. Bird's acquaint- 
ance with the Mayers extended back to about 
1830, at which time begins a sequence of letters 
from Miss Mary and Miss Caroline Mayer, her 
sister, that possess a remarkable charm and in- 
terest. The Mayer family was one of great piety 
and refinement. Philip Mayer was one of Phila- 
delphia's most venerable clergymen, and a pioneer 
of Lutheranism in America. He was the first 
American pastor to divest Lutheranism of its 



no LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

exclusively German character by conducting the 
service in English. For fifty-two years he sturdily 
preached the word to his only charge, old St. 
John's Church. He was also a man of widest 
interests and at various times served as President 
of the Philadelphia Dispensary, President of the 
Institution of the Deaf and Dumb, and a Trustee 
of the University of Pennsylvania. 

After his marriage Dr. Bird made his home at 
No. 140 North Twelfth Street, Philadelphia, and 
with the enlargement of power that "love, home, 
ease, and happiness bring" gave himself to his pen 
most unremittingly. In March of 1837 he had 
completed Nick of the Woods. He had already 
written some of the tales for Peter Pilgrim, and 
was at work on others. In addition he now became 
engaged in what proved his largest magazine 
venture. For some time there had been talk of 
founding in America a periodical which should 
broadly and worthily represent the nation as a 
whole; hitherto no American magazine had quite 
succeeded in surmounting the strong sectional 
feeling that existed through the States, rooted 
partly in rivalry and partly in political differences. 
This feeling at times was of extreme bitterness. 
For an example, one need only recall, the relations 
between Poe, then editing the Southern Literary 
Messenger and the "Metropolitan litterateurs" 
represented by Knickerbocker' s and The New York 
Mirror. The only periodicals that had anything 
like a nation-wide appeal were the British quar- 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. in 

terlies and monthlies, or those at home which 
derived a certain eclat from their foreign contribu- 
tions. The result, as Charles Fenno Hoffman 
wrote to Bird, "was to denationalize our upper 
classes, all their thinking is done abroad." With 
two attempts to found such a magazine Bird was 
now concerned. The first was a plan of Thomas 
Cottrel Clarke. Clarke had recently sold his inter- 
est in The Saturday Courier on such terms as to 
place at his disposal ' ' ample means and leisure ' ' ; 
and had outlined a magazine "on a more liberal 
plan than anything that has yet been attempted 
in Philadelphia." 1 The Courier, of which he re- 
mained an assistant editor, had a circulation of 
twenty-six thousand and through this he hoped 
to make the new venture known. Clarke invited 
Bird to undertake the editorial management of the 
new publication. In a letter of November 13, 
1836, Bird defers a definitive answer to Clarke, 
wishing a fuller "understanding of each other's 
aims and expectations." In the meantime Charles 
Fenno Hoffman had drawn up a plan for a national 
magazine. He aimed primarily at the absorption 
of sectional rivalry by publishing simultaneously 
from Boston, New York, and Philadelphia The 
American Monthly Magazine, a journal that had 
already enlarged its scope by the absorption of 
three others, The American Monthly Review, 
The United States Magazine, and The New England 
Magazine. On January 1 1 , 1837, Hoffman offered 

1 Clarke to Bird, November 9, 1836. 



ii2 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Bird the position of Philadelphia editor. His 
duties were to read and sift articles and to obtain 
or write reviews. He was to receive a yearly 
salary of $500 and $2 per page for work of his own. 
This offer Bird accepted' and a prospectus dated 
February, 1837, announced him an associate 
editor of The American Monthly Magazine with 
Mr. Hoffman in New York and Mr. Park Ben- 
jamin in Boston. In May and June of 1837 he 
wrote for the new venture two articles on the 
Mammoth Cave; in August, "A Tale of a Snag, " 
material for which, also, he had gathered in the 
Mississippi Valley on his Western trips. It seems 
he was planning, too, a new magazine of his own. 
Among his manuscripts I find detailed notes for 
The Adelphi, a literary monthly; a Philadelphia 
Weekly Gazette, a register of letters, arts, and news ; 
and The New Whig Monthly. Furthermore, he was 
receiving requests from many editors, with some 
of which he complied. But on the whole he wrote 
comparatively little for the periodicals. The 
reason he thus plainly states in a letter to Dr. 
Samuel G. Howe, who had asked him to contrib- 
ute to The New England Magazine. 

' ' Neither my habits nor my inclinations as I 
will frankly confess have ever led me to write 
for periodicals ; and the very few pieces of mine 
which have been printed were given, in all 
cases, at the request of personal friends. I am 
entirely of too discursive and diffuse a turn . . . 
to shine in a nutshell; and I have always felt 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 113 

more disposed to count by acts and chapters 
than by lines and paragraphs." 1 

Those who have followed thus far the career of 
Dr. Bird must have early observed one fact, — the 
killing pace at which he worked. Between Janu- 
ary, 1834, an d March, 1837, he had produced four 
novels; furthermore, they were of an order to 
strike Nathaniel Parker Willis with wonder "how 
he could afford to put so much material into a 
book," requiring exact portraiture and extensive 
research. Within this term also he had finished 
The Broker of Bogota, and had written with much 
other verse three complete cantos of The Cave, 
a descriptive poem of large dimensions. Besides, 
as we have noted, he contributed to magazines and 
assisted in editing The American Monthly. The 
mere labor of penmanship in such an amount of 
composition is only realized when one examines 
the reams of extant manuscript. But the cost of 
such an accomplishment was as sure as it was 
heavy; in 1833 and again in 1835 he had taken 
trips West to avert threatened breakdowns. With 
the enlarged opportunities that now came to him, 
his mode of life became correspondingly more 
sedentary and unhygienic. He ate, his wife 
relates, two meals a day, took little or no exercise; 
and, to escape the din and distraction of city 
streets, gradually fell into the habit of writing 
largely at night. The effects of such a regime 

1 Bird to Howe, letter undated. 
8 



ii4 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

were inevitable, and his health began to show the 
signs of a serious collapse. As a result of impaired 
digestion he became nearly blind for weeks. In 
November of 1837 he was forced to sunder his 
relations with The American Monthly. He ar- 
ranged and revised Peter Pilgrim at considerable 
disadvantage and wrote Robin Day under the 
pressure of actual suffering. Besides, there were 
worries from without. The publishing trade was 
disorganized throughout the country as a conse- 
quence of hard times. Bird was not alone to feel 
the pinch. Lea & Blanchard writing to Poe shortly 
after regarding a second edition of the tales, was 
very desirous of being relieved of publication "at 
cost or even at a small abatement." Publishers 
everywhere preferred selling to buying. In June, 
1838, Bird had a son born to him, Frederick Mayer 
Bird, bringing upon him its welcome but yet 
additional burden of obligations. l With an over- 
taxed mind, failing sight, and a breaking body Dr. 
Bird at the solicitation of his friends and with a 
sense of responsibility to his family, decided to 
abandon literature and seek health in agriculture. 
From his letters it seems he thought of buying a 

1 Frederick Mayer Bird (i 838-1 908) inherited many of the 
versatile talents of his father. Graduating at the University of 
Pennsylvania and Union Theological Seminary, New York, he 
held various pastorates and professorships until in 1881 he became 
chaplain and professor of Psychology, Christian Evidence, and 
Rhetoric at Lehigh University. He was editor of LippincoW s 
Magazine, 1893-98, and of Chandler's Encyclopedia, 1898. He 
was also a widely known hymnologist and numismatist. 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 115 

farm in Maryland in January, 1837. It was not 
until 1839 that he bought one "in Bohemian Neck 
on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, situated on the 
Elk about seven miles below Elkton." Hither it 
was his intention to move in the spring of 1839. 
He was prevented from doing so and in March, 
1839, occupied a house in New Castle belonging 
to his brother, No. 411 Delaware Street. Here, in 
the place of his birth, he rested for a year, indulging 
hobbies and amassing all sorts of agricultural lore. 
On March 13, 1840, he occupied the farm. 

Dr. Bird's life at Cabin Cove, or Bending Cove, 
or Bendico, or Bird's Nest, as he variously named 
his Maryland farm, is one of the most charming 
episodes in his career. Hither he retired, racked 
and jaded by the strain of city life, to the healing 
quiet of the countryside. Nor could he have 
chosen a lovelier spot. The farm itself with its 
three hundred acres of wooded uplands and shining 
water front was as rich in beauty as in soil. 
"Never was there a more beautiful river" he 
writes to his wife of the Elk. "It looks Susque- 
hannaish. I wish you could have seen it yesterday 
in the glorious misty calm, — the piney headlands, 
blue hills, the dark and gleaming waters." Along 
its sandy banks he could hear the "fishermen 
singing their boat songs all day and all night." 
Three miles off was the steamboat landing and 
right before their door steamers could be seen 
passing each other at half past ten each morning. 
Their dwelling was a cabin, "old, ugly, inconven- 



n6 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

ient, and shockingly out of repair" in Bird's own 
words, but rain-tight and "as good and rather 
better than most other houses in the manor." 
On a shady side of it he built a workshop, and in- 
stalled a bench and tools. Here was labor for the 
hands of every kind and into it Bird threw himself 
body and soul. He rose at half past four in the 
morning and bent to his chores until half past eight 
at night. Asking pardon of his wife, as yet in New 
Castle, for not writing, he complains he had "to 
make fence, build pump, split palings, dig post 
holes, measure land, mark lumber, and the Lord 
knows what." The Elk, then as now, abounded 
in pike, perch, rock, and herring ; and each season 
fishermen came with their pound-nets, traps, and 
tackle to fish for shares. Bird had always on the 
place "two good darkies"; but in the oats season 
fourteen hands came with their cradles. His 
neighbors were apparently primitive to a degree. 
"The people," he writes, "are all savages here, 
western like, live in cabins, without furniture; 
don't know the name or use of any chattel beyond 
bed, chair, and table; are amazed at a bureau, 
petrified at a pier-table, and come far and near to 
beg a look at your toilet." 

Of his activities at Cabin Cove Dr. Bird has 
left records of first interest. No less than seven 
notebooks labelled "Agriculture" No. i, No. 2, and 
so on remain written with characteristic neatness 
and style, and illustrated with plans and diagrams. 
He interested himself in every phase of farming; 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 117 

devoured journals, read scientific treatises, and 
conducted experiments. He thought of improving 
hemp culture by cropping the same field each 
year instead of rotating, then the common practice. 
He compared the various methods of dressing it, — 
pool rotting and steam rotting. He devised a new 
method of sulphuring manure to prevent undue 
fermentation; of extracting oil from opium by 
means of rollers instead of by incision ; of cultivat- 
ing sanguinaria used for dyeing purposes, but 
hitherto difficult to obtain in large enough quanti- 
ties. He studied the production of madder, the 
virtues and uses of its roots ; the relative merits of 
hedges, the evergreen, green brier, dogbrier, and 
privet. He tested a plan practiced in Bohemia of 
propagating apple trees. "The process is to take 
the shoots from the choicest sorts, insert them 
into potatoes, and plunge both into the ground, 
leaving but an inch or two of the shoot above the 
surface. The potato nourishes the shoot, while it 
pushes out roots. ' ' He investigated the production 
and possible uses of the pea vine, sesame, nettle, 
ground nuts, pink-root, acorns; and so on. He 
also applied his rare powers mechanically, and his 
notebooks are full of the most ingenious notions 
for new farming implements. He outlined a con- 
trivance for removing stumps, a method of de- 
stroying the Hessian fly by swabbing the wheat 
with tobacco, hellebore, and aloes "by a water- 
cart . . . having a flannel bag by way of a swab 
through which the fluid is slowly discharged." 



n8 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

More ingenious than practicable is Dr. Bird's 
suggestion of a Pig Mill by which the whole sty is 
placed "on an inclined wheel haltering them to 
fixed troughs, in which a little food might be 
placed to start them. . . . The lazy beasts would 
perhaps be none the worse for a little exercise. A 
dozen of them would perhaps do the work of an 
ox." But the favorite scheme of Dr. Bird's was a 
method of making bricks. The materials were to 
be coal dust, turf, and clay wrought to the proper 
temper in large iron cylinders. By means of a 
mechanical cutting arrangement of large racks 
and drying-sheds with movable roofs the process 
was made much swifter and less laborious. Be- 
sides, Dr. Bird seems to have gathered a large fund 
of agricultural lore on many subjects, — banking 
and drainage, coal tar, marl beds, the nutritive 
value in different plants and roots for cattle 
feeding. These are by no means all of the varied 
and numerous plans and ideas that the new occu- 
pation struck form from Dr. Bird's teeming mind. 
At Cabin Cove, Bird did little with the pen. It 
was his intention while there to write a history of 
the United States, for which he had gathered 
material many years. Lea & Blanchard had 
stated a wish to publish it and now wrote Bird 
that they had "to keep the presses moving" and 
would be glad to have the book, mildly reproving 
him that he had not gone to work more resolutely. 
There was a slackened demand, it seems, for 
novels and the lighter forms. But history is not 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 119 

to be written in the fag ends of long work days. 
In a letter to his wife, April 15, 1840, Bird declares, 
"History of the United States, indeed ! If I wrote 
anything, it must be a history of my own bothers." 
In consequence he did hardly more on the book 
than to sift material and make notes. 

It was at this time that the only attempt to 
stage Pelopidas, Bird's first prize tragedy, was 
made. The play had been accepted, it is to be 
remembered, by Edwin Forrest, though never 
performed nor paid for. Its literary merit had 
won the confidence of Dr. George McClellan and 
John Frost, who had interested William E. Burton. 
William E. Burton had recently sold to George R. 
Graham his celebrated Gentleman' s Magazine and 
had built a new Philadelphia theater on Chestnut 
Street, where the Continental Hotel now stands. 
In April, 1840, Burton accepted certain terms 
proposed by Dr. McClellan regarding Pelopidas, 
and promised to bring out the play in the fall. At 
the time nothing more seems to have been done, 
although the play was not submitted. On Sep- 
tember 1st Dr. McClellan again urges Dr. Bird 
to come to terms. Burton "wants to bring out the 
Pelopidas immediately. Scott has been faithful 
and made a stipulation with Burton to provide a 
[clearer] chance for Pelopidas. The offer is to put 
the play in immediate rehearsal and bring it out if 
possible on the 18th instant." On that date, it 
seems, Edwin Forrest was to bring out Conrad's 
Jack Cade at the old Chestnut Street House. 



120 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

With a chivalry that marked the man, Dr. Bird 
demurred out of pure deference to his friend, Judge 
Conrad. "I really think," McClellan writes on 
September 17th, "you are too delicate and scrupu- 
lous in your feelings about the bringing out of your 
play. Conrad would not have cared if his Conrad 
of Naples had sent The Gladiator to the devil, nor 
would he now care though his piece of radical 
rascality were to row poor Pelopidas up salt river. ' ' 
A last attempt to have the play staged was made 
by John Frost, to whom Burton then wrote: 

J. Frost, Esqr. 
My dear Sir, 

I will produce Pelopidas with all possible 
splendor and befitting appointments. I will 
share with the author the proceeds of the house, 
nightly, the same as with a principal star, de- 
ducting the expenses, averaging $250, with a 
third of the gross proceeds of the seventh night, 
clear of all deductions, for the author's profit, 
reserving to myself the sole use of the tragedy in 
the City of Philadelphia, so long as I remain 
manager, but making no claim for its use in any 
other city, the profits of said use in other cities 
to be at the author's own disposal. 

I believe that the production of Pelopidas will 
answer the purposes of all concerned. I pledge 
myself that it shall be produced in a superior 
way, and that the character shall be well sup- 
ported. 

I am, my dear Sir, 

Your obedt Servt 

W. E. Burton. 

Nat. Theatre, Phila., 
Dec. 15, 1840. 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 121 

P. S. Should Dr. Bird prefer, I will give him 
ten per cent on the gross receipts nightly whenever 
the Tragedy is played. 



There can be little question of the success of 
Pelopidas had it been given. Burton had taken 
fortune by the forelock. He was well backed ; his 
new house was thronged daily; he had engaged 
one of the best stock companies to be had in the 
States. He had won the people's confidence; and 
they were ready "to puff everything produced," 
as McClellan wrote Bird, "to the height and depth 
of its merits." Furthermore, he expressed a wish 
to have all that Bird could write for him and would 
' ' push them all ' ' in other cities. What it was that 
induced Dr. Bird to hold back his play is not plain. 
It may have been in part at least a dislike to engage 
in rivalry with Conrad; or possibly an absorption 
in other matters ; or a distaste for a phase of litera- 
ture that years before had wrought him such in- 
justice. The fact only remains he did not submit 
Pelopidas. 

But if labor with the pen at Cabin Cove yielded 
little, the work of his hands, the fresh air, and the 
quiet life on a farm soon brought health and invig- 
oration. "I am as hearty, " he writes to his wife, 
September 22, 1840, "as if I never had ailed." 
His sight mended; his face acquired, we are told, 
the florid tints of "an Englishman." In a word, 
his term of life was unquestionably prolonged by 
the change. But a productive farm of three hun- 



122 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

dred acres entails other considerations. Rich as 
was the soil, there was an instant need for large 
improvement, all of which was heavily expensive. 
The year's crops had been what the farmers call 
"a failure." Besides, the prospect of spending 
the winter with a wife and child in hardly more 
than a cabin was far from attractive. Conse- 
quently on September 25, 1840, Dr. Bird thinks of 
moving to New Castle "more sorry to leave the 
farm than I can express. I cannot look around me 
but my eyes fill. Here we could and might have 
been so happy, had my beggarly fate been a little 
more propitious. The season of health and delight 
has just begun. . . . All is peace and beauty. . . . 
Yes, the beauty of Bendico is just beginning." 1 
Shortly after he moved his family to the house in 
New Castle, No. 411 Delaware Street. It is from 
this time that our only first-hand impression of Dr. 
Bird dates. Miss Emily Rodney, of the well- 
known Delaware family, once a playmate of Bird's 
son, remembers the dramatist, a tall, large, im- 
pressive figure, clad in a cloak, with spectacles, 
a characteristic erectness of head, and a stride 
of unusual energy in his walks about New 
Castle. a 

In the spring of 1841 Dr. Bird turned to a pro- 
fession for which he was superbly fitted, but which 

1 Bird to Mrs. Bird, September 25, 1840. 

2 1 am indebted for this account of Dr. Bird to Mr. Henry 
Hanby Hay of New Castle, a brother-in-law of Miss Emily 
Rodney. 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 123 

to him was always the most irksome of tasks, — 
teaching. In the fall of 1839 a new medical college 
had been founded in Philadelphia, located on 
Filbert Street above Eleventh and known as the 
Pennsylvania Medical College. In origin it was a 
branch of the Pennsylvania College at Gettysburg. 
By a special act of the Legislature in 1839-40 it 
was empowered to grant degrees in the city of 
Philadelphia and given privileges equal with other 
medical schools of the State, the Faculty thus 
becoming virtually a board of trustees. Upon it 
were eminent physicians and warm personal friends 
of Dr. Bird, — Drs. William Rush, George Mc- 
Clellan, Samuel G. Morton, and Walter R. John- 
son, his old teacher at German town Academy. 
The College numbered a student body of some 250 
men. At this institution Bird was offered the 
professorship of the Institute of Medicine and 
Materia Medica, made vacant by the death of Dr. 
Calhoun, which he accepted in May, 1841. Leav- 
ing his family in New Castle, he went to Philadel- 
phia and took lodgings at No. 20 Montgomery 
Square, Race Street above Tenth, and later at No. 
28 North Eighth Street. 

Among Bird's extant papers are his lectures in 
Materia Medica with two printed addresses. 
They are written with all the ease of phrase, the 
wealth of allusion and anecdote that only a man of 
his literary gifts could command. Reading alone 
suffices to disclose their grace of form and interest. 
For such a one teaching would supposedly have 



124 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

been a delight ; the opposite, however, seems em- 
phatically to have been the case. Of course, the 
circumstances were in part accountable. On 
December 12, 1841, he writes to his wife, "I am 
kept too mulishly busy to enjoy care. The class 
is very small, under eighty, I believe. There was 
a ridiculous mistake about its being near one 
hundred. Of course I shall make very little money ; 
and of course also I am disheartened. Neverthe- 
less, my colleagues are in such good spirits that 
they talk of building a new college, having sundry 
tempting offers there anent. I don't know what I 
shall do; I have not time yet to make up my 
opinion. My feeling is to retire in the spring ; but I 
have till the spring and some time after to think 
about it. I certainly do unutterably detest this 
living and drudging a whole winter in separation, 
and all for nothing. The work expended on my 
lectures would have written my Hist, of U. S. ; 
but I don't know, indeed, that the history would 
have paid me any better, these hard times. Oh, 
for a little ease, and quiet, and laziness." The 
second year was not more pleasant. On July 
11, 1842, he writes, "The two months crept away 
very slowly, and instead of rejoicing that a week of 
the term is passed away, I grumble because it is 
not two or three. However, Sunday will bring us 
to the middle of the month and then there will 
remain but six weeks more bother or at least of 
lecturing." Notwithstanding Dr. Bird gave two 
full courses of lectures in 1841-42 and 1842-43, 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 125 

continuing in connection until the disorganiza- 
tion of the institution in 1844. 

During his residence at New Castle, also, Dr. 
Bird formed one of the most fruitful friendships of 
his life, giving to his interests still a fresh turn. 
In the spring of 1842 John Middleton Clayton 
occupied the old mansion known as the Read 
House on Water Street, New Castle. Clayton had 
already begun his career of distinction. He had 
been a senator at thirty-three, had served a dis- 
tinguished term on the bench, and was already 
counted one of Delaware's leading statesmen. In 
politics he was a strong Whig, as the new reforming 
party was named that came into existence about 
1837. Through Dr. McClellan, John M. Clayton 
and Dr. Bird met and formed an intimacy that 
lasted throughout their lives. Through Clayton, 
Bird, too, became an active member of the Whig 
party ; its principles of reform he had long stood 
for, its leaders he now came to know and to admire. 
Accordingly in the spring of 1842, when a Con- 
gressional vacancy occurred through a declination 
of a renomination by Mr. Rodney, Dr. Bird was 
pressed to run. He reluctantly consented and 
took the stump in his own behalf. In his extant 
speeches he sets forth two claims for consideration. 
"I am a full blooded delawarean and I can 
boast . . . that five or six generations of my 
fathers were born upon and now molder beneath 
the soil; and then I am a Whig, a very good one." 
But from the first he was uncertain of his wish to 



126 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

enter politics. It was, he declared, like Malvolio's 
honor "thrust upon him, " and he would go from a 
sense of duty. ' ' The thing perplexes me, you may 
be sure," he writes June 12, 1842. The state of 
the medical college was dubious. And yet his wife 
opposed on all grounds the Congressional nomina- 
tion. It would mean separation from his family; 
a permanent appointment in Washington might 
ensue; but "to be among that scandalous set that 
disgrace the House" was her prime objection. 
Besides, a new professorship had been heard of in 
Lexington, Kentucky. The nomination was to be 
July 5th. As late as June 29th Mr. Rodney's 
declination was uncertain. Out of deference to his 
wife's wishes, and cooled by the delay and the 
uncertainty, Bird withdrew from the running. 

For a brief term he again turned to literature. 
He revised his four dramas, — Pelopidas, The 
Gladiator, Oralloossa, and The Broker of Bogota. 
He gathered sources for a history of the annexa- 
tion of Texas and the Mexican War, of which he 
wrote one chapter, still with his manuscripts. 
He wrote the portion of a novel entitled The 
Celebrated Mrs. Munchary, a satire on the new 
woman of the day. ' He drew up a plan for the 

1 It is written in a series of letters and can perhaps be best 
described by Bird's own description of a vignette illustration to 
accompany it entitled "Young America": "Foreground — Street. 
A man nursing the baby, while his wife knocks down a lady for 
insulting him ; a horsewoman astraddle, gallanting a gentleman on 
a side saddle; twogirls fighting, and all the boys screaming for fear. 
Background. An Open Senate Chamber. Two wenches keeping 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 127 

organization of the Smithsonian Institute. He 
further wrote a part of a memoir of John M. Clay- 
ton, and a sketch of the Life of Major Thomas 
Stockton, which was printed and widely read. In 
it he cleared Stockton of vicious charges fabricated 
by political opponents, and greatly aided his elec- 
tion as Governor of Delaware. 

One more service for the Whig cause during 
Bird's life at New Castle remains unchronicled. 
This party, it seems, had soon gained an astonish- 
ing strength and influence; about its standards 
were gathering some of the ablest men in the 
States. A great Whig Convention was planned to 
meet at Baltimore to organize and nominate for 
the coming election. Henry Clay was slated for 
the Presidency. Among the candidates for the 
Vice- Presidency was John M. Clayton. In behalf 
of his friend Dr. Bird once more took the stump. 
Speech after speech he made to the various Clay 
clubs in the Hundreds and cities, vigorously assert- 
ing the claims of the Whigs, lauding their leaders, 
and denouncing the Locofocos. "I believe the 
man never yet lived," runs one of his speeches, 
"who had a more noble spirit, a truer love of his 
country, or a greater capacity to render it great 
and prosperous than that nature's gentleman . . . 
whom the American people now mean to make 
their President, — Henry Clay of Kentucky. And 
if there is anyone else in the land who equals or 

the door, and a female Senate, harangued by a female Demos- 
thenes, who gesticulates at the expense of her petticoat." 



128 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

approaches him . . . that is John M. Clayton of 
Delaware." To the great Whig Convention at 
Baltimore in May, 1844, he went as Clayton's 
personal representative and received the states- 
man's friends as they arrived from different quar- 
ters of the Union. This Convention he describes 
in the following letter to his six-year-old son, 
writing legibly and naively warning him of the 
dangers of life in Philadelphia. As it closes Bird's 
political activities, so it may suitably close this 
chapter. 

My dear little son, 

I arrived from Baltimore in safety, along with 
my trunk, which I had the good fortune to 
recover. Everybody who travels should look 
to his own luggage, and then he will not lose it. 

I had a very agreeable time at Baltimore, 
seeing and hearing things, which you would 
have been delighted to see and hear. There 
were thousands of men walking in a vast pro- 
cession, with beautiful banners and bands of 
music ; and all persons had splendid badges and 
medals, such as I have given your dear mother to 
send up to you. All this was in honor of Henry 
Clay. But I shall tell you more about it some 
other time. 

I hope you are well and that you enjoy your- 
self up in Philadelphia. I learn from the news- 
papers that there are wicked men up there, who 
are fighting and shooting, and killing one 
another. It is a very bad business ; and I desire 
that you will keep out of their way : for, though 
I do not apprehend you would shoot anybody, 
yet somebody might shoot you. 



MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 129 

When you are tired of Philadelphia, I shall be 
rejoiced — and so will your dear mother be — to 
have you back again in New Castle. 

I hope your grandpa has got well. Give my 
love to all your aunts, and believe me 

Your affectionate father, 
Robert M. Bird. 
Frederick Mayer Bird. 



CHAPTER VII 



JOURNALISM 



In one department of his career Robert Mont- 
gomery Bird was supremely happy; in his home 
life he was blessed beyond the lot of most men. To 
that he could always turn and find "peace and 
trust and affection." His was one of those strong, 
chivalrous natures capable of inspiring in women 
a regard that literally amounted to devotion. 
During his life it was the first concern of Mrs. Bird 
to make their home a place of inviolate sanctity 
and peace, and to soothe and cheer a nature that 
perhaps was ever too sensitive. After his death, 
not content with leaving a detailed memoir of his 
life, she diligently gathered and preserved every 
bit of paper his pen had touched. Furthermore, 
his was a life of few strifes and many abiding 
friendships. One misses an essential trait of the 
man who omits to mention his uncommon power 
to inspire strong attachments. To this fact the 
obituaries following his death without exception 
bore witness. As the list of these intimacies is 
long, only a few can be given here. They deserve 
mention because, more than others, they shaped 

130 



JOURNALISM 131 

his development. There was Dr. George McClel- 
lan, the well-known physician, through whom Dr. 
Bird met Edwin Forrest and who until his death 
was tireless in Bird's behalf; John Frost, the his- 
torian, ever the best of friends; James Lawson, 
whose bounty went forth to many a struggling 
author; W. Gaylord Clark, through whom Bird 
met Longfellow; Hiram Powers, the sculptor, 
whom Bird — among the first to perceive his gifts — 
started on his career encouraged. Though a friend 
of his later years only, none stood closer in Dr. 
Bird's regard than John Middleton Clayton, Dela- 
ware's great statesman, and Secretary of State 
under Taylor. Their friendship, it seems, was 
mutual. "I love you," wrote Clayton to Bird, 
August, 1848, "better than any man on earth 
except my own children and while my heart shall 
pulsate that feeling will never abate." At his 
friend's death, Clayton left, besides a codicil in 
his will designed to ease the weight of debt on 
Mrs. Bird, a bequest of five hundred dollars for the 
erection of a monument to Bird's memory, pro- 
vided he be buried in his native State. 

After the Whig Convention at Baltimore in the 
spring of 1844 Dr. Bird retired to New Castle 
where for about two years he again pursued 
favorite schemes. Chief among these were experi- 
ments in industrial chemistry. He was perfecting 
a method, his wife states, for "the manufacture of 
niter, saltpeter, and magnesia, and his experiments 
in the preparation of a superior form of that article 



132 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

at a cheap price had resulted in complete success. 
He was delayed in the establishment of works for 
this purpose by the difficulty of procuring a suit- 
able lot and buildings." His friends, too, were 
urgent in his behalf. In April of 1844, John Frost, 
then a sub-editor of Godey's Magazine, solicited 
him to become a regular contributor and suggested 
a series of sketches based on Mexican and Peruvian 
history. Through the death of Professor Sander- 
son the chair of Classical Literature in the Phila- 
delphia High School was made vacant, and its 
acceptance Frost was pressing on Bird. Of course, 
it paid only $1100; but the duties were light; his 
afternoons would be free to devote to writing; 
and the book trade was now in full blast. Along 
with it he might also hold his professorship in 
Materia Medica. In March of 1846 Clayton urged 
him to accept a Prothonotaryship ; stating "that 
it will be offered you." The same month his 
father-in-law, the Rev. Philip Mayer, writes, ' ' Mr. 
Lea is very desirous you should prepare the long 
talked of history of America or the United States 
(I don't know which). Mac[Clellan] added that 
Lea intimated a disposition to pay Four Thousand 
Dollars for it in instalments as the work should 
come out." In April, 1846, Dr. Bird was ap- 
pointed by Governor Maull a director of the 
Farmer's Bank at New Castle. On December 7, 
1846, he wrote for The North American an article 
on the Smithsonian Institute that awakened wide 
attention. The Board of Regents had just ap- 



JOURNALISM 133 

pointed to the Secretaryship Professor Joseph 
Henry, of the College of New Jersey at Princeton. 
This appointment Bird warmly commends and 
takes occasion to outline the uses to which, he 
thinks, the bequest should be put. It would be 
unwise, he urged, to found another college ; of these 
there was already plenty. On the other hand 
America had no institution like the Royal Society 
of London or the National Institute of France, with 
its sole end the promotion of science. To this 
purpose the Smithsonian bequest with the nation 
as its guardian might well be put. The subsequent 
development of the institute on almost exactly the 
lines Dr. Bird suggested has proved the wisdom of 
his views. At the time the article drew attention 
to Bird's fitness for a position in the institution. 
From a letter of Clayton's, January 22, 1847, it 
seems Professor Henry wanted him as an associate ; 
that his appointment had been moved; and that 
Henry was to be "the scientific man" and Bird 
"the literary man" of the institution. This plan, 
however, came to naught through Dr. Bird's 
purchase of a share in The North American (news- 
paper) and his removal to Philadelphia. At the 
solicitation of John M. Clayton, through whose 
loan the purchase was made possible, he bought 
on June 23, 1847, of George R. Graham and 
Morton McMichael "one third the joint estab- 
lishment of The North American and United States 
Gazette including all the properties appertaining 
to the establishment to the amount for one third 



134 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

as above stated" for $30,800. Since with this 
publication he was connected for the rest of his life, 
and in itself it is a notable journal, a brief review 
is in place. 

The North American, according to Frederic 
Hudson, "can claim to be, by purchase, the oldest 
daily paper, morning and evening, published in the 
United States." Like many publications of its 
time it had a very composite development and had 
absorbed wholly or partly no less than ten periodi- 
cals. J Under the name of The North American it 
was first issued, March 26, 1839, at No. 63 (now 
233) Dock Street, Philadelphia. In October, 1845, 
it was sold to George R. Graham and Alexander 
Cummings, who engaged Robert T. Conrad, the 
distinguished jurist, poet, dramatist, and orator, 
as editor. A difference of political views, how- 
ever, led to a dissolution of the firm, Mr. Graham 
remaining sole proprietor until January 1, 1847, 
when Morton McMichael became associated with 
him in the firm of Graham & McMichael. The 
paper at this time was an eight-column folio, with 
a head similar to that now used and with the motto 
"Devoted to Truth." It was published at the 
northwest corner of Chestnut and Fourth Streets 

1 1st. The Pennsylvanica Packet or the General Advertiser, 
1771. 2d. The American Daily Advertiser, 1784. 3d. Gazette 
of the United States, 1789. 4th. Evening Advertiser, 1793. 5th. 
United States Gazette, 1804. 6th. True American, 1820. 7th. 
Commercial Chronicle, 1820. 8th. The Union, 1820. 9th. The 
North American, 1839. 10th. Commercial Herald. (Hudson, 
History of Journalism, p. 183.) 



JOURNALISM 135 

until its removal in July, 1848, to No. 132 South 
Third Street. At the beginning of 1847 The North 
American and The United States Gazette were 
separate, though of like aims and standing. Both 
were of Whig persuasion; both advocated protec- 
tion; both gave loyal support to city and State 
interests; and both were highly successful, though 
naturally competitors. On July 1, 1847, when Dr. 
Bird became associated, the two papers were 
joined in one of nearly the present size. "It is not 
often," runs the editorial in that issue, "that such 
union is effected — they believe, indeed, that such 
union has never before been effected in the United 
States — between two journals in such a completely 
flourishing condition as The United States Gazette 
and The North American, the one possessing all the 
solid and long established business relations which 
are the fruits of mature age, the other the vigor, 
and energy, and rich promise that belong to active 
youth." The announcement of its editorial force 
includes, Robert T. Conrad, in charge of the poli- 
tical department; James S. Wallace, general 
associate editor, G. G. Foster, city editor; and 
Dr. Robert M. Bird "whose high attainments in 
literature and science are universally known and 
appreciated," who was to preside over the mis- 
cellaneous department. The firm, known as 
Graham & McMichael, was located at No. 66 
South Third Street, Philadelphia. 1 

1 Among the Bird MSS. I find the following testimonial regard- 
ing Tlie North American from Henry Clay: 



136 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Removing to Philadelphia Dr. Bird assumed his 
new duties with ardor. His editorials, written in 
neat and melodious phrase on a wide range of 
subject-matter, are not hard to identify and shall 
be briefly treated in their place. Here we are only 
concerned with the outer aspects of the under- 
taking. The burdensome tasks that rest on the 
editing force of a daily newspaper are too well 
known to need mention. In Bird's case, it seems, 
they were unusually heavy by reason of an utterly 
unbusinesslike management with no equal division 
of labor whatever. Judge Conrad — lawyer, drama- 
tist, poet, journalist — had so many interests that 
he was able only occasionally to contribute to the 
columns. George R. Graham was hardly more 
helpful on account of his frequent "frolics up the 
river" as Bird put it, and his load of copper specu- 
lations. Morton McMichael was engaged with the 
business management. In consequence the burden 
of editing lay upon Dr. Bird. Already in December 
of 1847 the constant confinement throughout the 

"I have received and attentively perused many months the 
N. American published in Philadelphia, with which the 
U. States Gazette is now associated; and I take pleasure in 
bearing my humble testimony to the consummate ability with 
which it is generally edited, and to the soundness of the principles 
which it labors to illustrate and establish. I think it eminently 
merits public patronage, and especially Whig support. If that 
great cause should be triumphant, as there is now ground for 
confident hopes, that paper must be regarded as one of its most 
fearless champions and enlightened supporters. 

"H. Clay." 

"Aug. 1847." 



JOURNALISM 137 

day and half the night had again brought the 
warnings of a serious disease. Before the year 
was up, he was plainly overworked and despon- 
dent. "The experience of a year, " runs a jotting 
in his hand dated June 19, 1848, "satisfies me that 
the concern cannot be safe and prosperous as it 
ought to be without the entire devotion of all the 
proprietors' time and functions to all its interests, 
and a systematic regulation of functions such as 
will produce some equitable divisions of labors." 
Besides, the policy of the paper had at times taken 
a turn offensive to both Bird and Clayton. It had 
engaged in ill-advised personal assaults that had 
stirred violent complaint. In May, 1848, Clayton 
writes Bird, ' ' I have no confidence that it will ever 
regain the good opinion of the men it has now 
attacked"; and advises him to end his connection 
at once and come to the Delaware Farm. ' ' Green 
fields and bullocks are better objects of contem- 
plation." 

The chief source, however, of Bird's uneasiness 
was the copper speculations of George R. Graham. 
Graham it seems was in one of those periods of 
recklessness and dissipation frequently marring a 
career that might have reached distinction. In 
1848 he was forced to transfer the magazine that 
had so long and famously borne his name to 
Samuel Dewees Patterson, "a series of misfor- 
tunes" to use his own phrase "having bereft me 
of any proprietory interest in this magazine." 
He was retained, however, by the new owner as one 



138 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

of the editors. Through his plunging, it seems, he 
was also undermining The North American. In a 
letter, June 22, 1848, Bird sets forth to him the 
result of his conduct. "The credit of the firm is 
impaired, its solvency publicly doubted, its char- 
acter seriously injured, and its influence greatly 
lessened." He pleads with Graham to relieve 
himself of his "load of speculation and return to 
real business." On July 7, 1848, there is a further 
rebuke for using the name of the firm for private 
business. "Since July 1st, . . . I find that you 
have used the name of the firm — as on checks and 
drafts — without consultation of either McM [Mc- 
Michael] or myself for your own private purposes." 
On July 10, 1848: "I discovered today almost by 
accident that the checks of ' Graham & McMichael ' 
have for some time past been sold to Brokers and 
that while I have been taught to regard the raising 
of $1000 as a peculiar privilege, discounts have 
been obtained on the credit of the firm for $32,000." 
Little wonder it is that Dr. Bird, with whom honor 
was instinctive and final, writes, August 23, 1848, 
to his wife, at that time in New Castle and some- 
what tired of its drab dullness. ' ' I also feel sorry 
at your giving so bad an account of New Castle, 
which with all its faults, I prefer to all the Phila- 
delphias that are, were, or will be, and would be 
glad to accept in exchange with $1500 a year 
independent income giving a receipt in full for all 
claims upon fortune and the pleasures of Phila- 
delphia. I know the vices of the people; but there 



JOURNALISM 139 

is no dream among them of the settled rascalities 
of a city. 

Elsewhere among Bird's memoranda is the 
following summary of the situation. 

"1. The first year: the circumstances and 
the result. 

"A. The circumstances. I have devoted my- 
self to the N. A. to the entire exclusion of the 
private business and personal interests. I have 
had distinct offers for literary work which I could 
have performed within the year, employing half 
my time in it, amounting to $2500; with various 
contingent offers: so that I might easily have 
made arrangements for private business requir- 
ing four or five hours a day which would have 
brought me the interest of the bond — a very 
tempting opportunity. Declined all, however, 
to give all time to the paper in the hope that 
this sacrifice would ultimately be compensated 
by increased character, business, and profits. 
The circumstances of the last three or four 
months have been unfavorable to my hopes and 
to all prospects of increased business, character, 
and profits ; and as the second year approaches 
presenting to me a spectacle of doubt and gloom. 

" The question is what inducement have I to 
continue longer, under my particular circum- 
stances laboring as it seems in vain under a load 
of difficulty and anxiety, which no efforts or 
sacrifice of mind, unaided by a common effort 
and sacrifice of all, can make available? 

"B. The result. The anxieties of the last 
three months have prevented my keeping the 
run of accts. I have not had time enough or 
tranquillity enough scarcely to do my writing. 



140 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

If the result be at the end of the first year, to 
leave me with an increased instead of diminished 
burden, it is clear that I cannot go on at such 
a rate. ... I am extremely desirous of know- 
ing the real condition of things, before the year 
is out that I may do whatever is necessary and 
practicable under the circumstances before a 
2nd year begins." 1 

A rearrangement at last was imperative and 
an indenture dated July, 1848, announces Gra- 
ham's withdrawal from the firm; and another in 
August, a reorganization under the name of 
McMichael & Bird. Graham's share was halved 
and bought by Elijah Van Syckel and Thomas 
McElrath. The stipulations of the indenture seem 
expressly designed to prevent another situation 
like that just concluded, and call for an equal 
division of labor and books of accounts kept at 
the place of business wherein "true and perfect 
entries shall be made of the receipts and expendi- 
tures." 

To summarize Dr. Bird's views on the many 
questions of the day, as expressed in his editorials, 
would be both difficult and needless. We find 
what might be expected of a loyal American of 
Whig principles and broad literary culture. If 
any events of the day more than others made him 
feel sharply and write strongly they were, first of 
all, our relations with England. Ever since his own 

'I have slightly altered the original document, which reads: 
... A. The circumstances .... 2. The result. 



JOURNALISM 141 

early humiliation at the hands of Bulwer and the 
English bookmen, his attitude toward England 
was one of stout independence. He sharply re- 
sented England's condescension towards America 
as to an upstart nation. Our swift advance in 
culture as well as in the industrial arts she was 
forced to admit. Yet she always fell back with 
galling complacency upon her age as a point of 
unattainable superiority. Her self-righteousness 
never ceased to fire him, and yet he questioned her 
political good faith. How could she chide us as 
she did for our aggression in Cuba in the face of 
her own in Asiatic Burmah ? How could she pro- 
pose a Tri- Partite Treaty between France, United 
States, and herself regarding Cuba when only three 
years before she had agreed to a similar arrange- 
ment touching Central America and was at that 
moment violating it ? Again the affairs of Mexico 
were with Dr. Bird a frequent theme. Then as 
now Mexico was writhing in the throes of war and 
insurrection. President Arista had resigned his 
authority in despair; there was no such thing as 
patriotism in the country; no aptitude for self- 
government. Would she become the prey of 
England, France or Spain? Toward Mexico Bird's 
attitude was always sympathetic; he realized her 
great resources; and pitied her degradation. 
Again, John M. Clayton and the famous treaty 
that bore his name were frequent themes. In 
1 85 1, it is to be recalled, the treaty was invidiously 
attacked and the whole of Taylor's administration 



142 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

involved. In behalf of Clayton and his treaty, 
Bird wrote one telling appeal after another, 
zealously vindicating the wisdom and character 
of his friend. Finally, running through Bird's 
editorials is a strong and intelligent advocacy of 
local affairs, of home trade, of home arts and 
institutions. Dr. Bird would have subscribed 
warmly to what has been termed "the higher 
provincialism." 

The style of these editorials can be best brought 
to the reader, perhaps, through quotation. The 
following paragraph is taken from an editorial of 
January I, 1850, entitled The New Year. Its 
quaint eloquence, its mellowness, and its tone of 
sadness — possibly a reflection from Bird's own 
life at the time — are characteristic as are also its 
perfect ease and fluency. 

"At this season the mind naturally reverts 
to the past and recalls whatever of good or evil 
has marked the year that is gone. The instinct 
is a happy one by which we are led to pause, as 
it were, at certain stages of life's journey, and to 
look back with a reflective eye to the scenes and 
incidents encountered on the way. It is custom- 
ary to regard the advent of each year as an 
occasion for social enjoyment; and accordingly 
men observe it as a season of festivity. To 
the young, who are looking forward to what lies 
before them, and who have little business with 
memory, it is a pleasant time, and as they enter 
each year, Hope, like an angel, waits upon the 
threshhold and promises to lead through a fairy 



JOURNALISM 143 

world. They go right willingly and turn no 
regretful look behind. But to many the hour 
brings little pleasure save in the reflection of the 
happiness of others and the recollection of earlier 
and light hearted years. There is a spirit in the 
time that takes us gently by the hand and leads 
us back over the once shining track of our young 
days, and points to many a hope, and joy, and 
fair promise that have perished like the blooms 
of Spring, hopes and joys that we know we shall 
find no more, upon all the Earth forever. For 
the seasons may renew "the lilies of the valley, " 
but they can never bring back to our hearts the 
blisses and affections of youth. At times like 
this, we may from the lifeless leaves catch some 
faint hint of the once surpassing sweetness of 
the flower, but all that is left us besides, is regret- 
ful retrospection. For many of us, therefore, 
the hour has something of melancholy. Yet he 
who in a spirit of self-examination reviews the 
past may gather from its lessons a wholesome 
philosophy, which must make him both wiser 
and happier in the future. Let us all then, 
today, make up our account with the year that 
has closed, and so listen to its admonitions that 
we may turn to our improvement the discipline 
of experience. In this manner we may extract 
blessings even from misfortune, and learn how 
"sweet" indeed "are the uses of adversity." 



CHAPTER VIII 



LAST DAYS 



It seemed inevitable that Dr. Bird's facile 
powers and a spendthrift willingness to place them 
at the use of others should sooner or later make him 
the victim of drudgery. He did tasks with an ease 
that belied their magnitude and invited further 
imposition. "I do, I may say, " he writes to Clay- 
ton, "all the writing of the paper (the Judge has 
scarcely furnished three articles in three months) 
and my whole time from 8 A.M. to I next A.M. 
every day is laboriously occupied in my duties; 
and relaxation or pleasure of any kind are things 
I never know." One wonders why a man who 
assuredly knew the risks he ran of serious damage 
to his health should have shown so total a dis- 
regard. Any answer must be of course conjectural, 
but one reason, it seems, was the financial obliga- 
tions the business had laid upon him. To meet the 
interest of a loan Clayton had generously made, 
seemed a point of honor that caused him the 
deepest anxiety, so concerned was he lest their 
friendship should incur a strain. To this obliga- 
tion and the absolute necessity of meeting it he 

144 



LAST DAYS 145 

refers again and again in his jottings. And then, 
of course, Dr. Bird was of the type of man, whose 
energies grew with the demand upon them. Hard 
work rather stirred fresh effort than discouraged 
him. Only the premonitions of a breakdown led 
him to slacken his pace and take occasional diver- 
sions mostly in the shape of short visits to Buena 
Vista, Clayton's farm in Delaware. From here he 
writes to his wife, April, 1852: "It is so agreeable 
and yet so tiresome to feed the chickens, and look 
at distant prospects which I can't see without eye- 
glasses or spy glasses." Again in July: "I am the 
more pleased to see Fred this afternoon as it gives 
me the opportunity of sending you word that I am 
doing extremely well and am decidedly improving 
by the air, exercise and eggs of Buena Vista. Mr. 
C. is very kind and wishes me to stay all summer." 
Again in September: "I received, th s afternoon, a 
letter from Mr. Clayton requesting me in so urgent 
a manner to go down to see him on some business 
which he represents as of great importance to him 
that I do not see how I can well avoid it; and I 
think it not improbable, therefore, that I shall run 
down on Saturday to return, I hope, on Monday." 
From his letters it is clear these visits were fairly 
frequent. 

Although Dr. Bird's interest in the works of his 
pen had greatly flagged, he did make occasional 
efforts to copyright his plays and to revise his 
novels. In January, 1 851, he had consulted Clay- 
ton about the legality of Forrest's possession of his 



146 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

dramas. But nothing, it seems, could be done. 
"It would be a difficult thing," Clayton writes, 
"to give any correct opinion about the effect of 
your contract with E. Forrest, because if I under- 
stand you, you have no written contract and your 
only witness, poor McClellan, is dead. You have 
suffered him to take copies of your tragedies. 
What have you in writing, or what evidence have 
you by letter or otherwise ? If you sold him a right 
in your plays, what proof have you that it was not 
an absolute and unlimited right? It appears to 
me that if you have suffered him to take copies of 
the plays and act them, you will have a great deal 
of trouble to get anything out of him, no matter 
what he does with them, unless you can prove that 
the right sold to him was a mere right in him to act 
them, and not transferrable to others. The length 
of time he has had them tends to strengthen his 
claim. The copyright ought to be secured to 
yourself." 1 He was also planning a new edition 

1 Forrest's views in the matter may be gathered from the 
following letter written years later to Dr. Bird's son, who was 
planning to publish the plays. 

"Philadelphia, October 1, 1869. 
" Mr. Frederic M. Bird, 
" Dear Sir, 

" The heirs of the late Dr. R. M. Bird have neither 
right, title, nor any legal interest whatever in the plays written 
by him for me, viz. : The Gladiator, The Broker of Bogota, and 
the play of Oralloossa. 

" These plays are my exclusive property by the right of pur- 
chase, and for many years by the law of copyright. 

" Yours respectfully, 

" Edwin Forrest." 



LAST DA YS 147 

of his romances and in the spring was at work on 
Nick oj the Woods. Pressure of business, however, 
prevented its completion, and in November, 1852, 
he was still negotiating with Mr. Redfield, when 
"ill health and the peremptory commands of my 
medical friends " forced him to go West. 1 

In January, 1853, George H. Boker consulted 
Dr. Bird regarding a Dramatic Authors' Bill, 
which he was endeavoring to have Congress pass. 
As the subject is of interest in itself, and the letter 
is Bird's last recorded utterance regarding the 
dramatist's profession, summarizing his own early 
experience, it is given in full. The last paragraph 
is of especial autobiographical interest. 

Philadelphia, Jan. 31, 1853. 

My dear Mr. Boker: 

If I might advise you as to a Dramatic 
Authors' Bill, I should say by all means go to 
Washington, and endeavor to enlist the feelings 
of a few leading members of the House in its 
favor. The weakness of the bill — or of the 
Cause it represents (which is also or ought to be, 
its strength) — is that nobody cares anything 
about it one way or the other, — except yourself, 
the four or five dramatic writers who, like you, 
have courage still to labor in a service surrounded 
by so many discouragements, and myself, who 

1 Referring to his business worries at this time, Dr. Bird says: 
" I should not let these things trouble me so much, if they did not 
interfere with my writing; to do which one ought to have a 
composed and quiet mind. The brain-machine is as delicate as a 
chronometer; it takes but a little shake to put it out of order." 



148 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

have reason to remember, from the experience 
of former years, the injurious workings of the ex- 
isting system. The dramatic interest is — and as 
long as the acting right in a play is not recognized 
by law will remain — so utterly insignificant that 
members of Congress cannot be expected to 
trouble themselves, or even think about the bill, 
to ask what it means and what object it is to 
subserve unless some one like yourself, who 
might claim the kindly personal consideration 
due to the gentleman and literary man should 
devote a few days to the duty of explanation and 
advocacy. Nobody knows or cares anything 
about the measure; but on the other hand, no- 
body that I know of makes any objection to 
it. There is absolutely no opposing interest. 
Neither managers nor actors have any interest 
against it; nor have publishers or readers. To 
every person except the dramatic writer alone, 
it makes no difference whether the law passes 
or fails. Some advantage would result from it 
to all. The theaters would have more new plays 
to produce — the publishers more copy to print 
— the public more books to read. The imme- 
diate advantage to writers would be not unim- 
portant to them pecuniarily — though no one 
would be taxed in consequence; while the great 
benefit would result in the power the author 
would have of publication without thereby 
divesting himself of his property — the only 
property of any real value in a play, as you so 
well know, lying in the right of representation. 
The want of recognition in the copyright act of 
the right of representation compels authors to 
keep their plays in manuscript, and confine 
their use to a single act or manager. The market 
is shut up — , the field of literary adventure is 



LAST DAYS 149 

barred; the writer's only means of communica- 
tion with the world is through the rantings and 
blunderings of illiterate companies. No wonder 
so few American poets are willing to try their 
fortune on the stage where the risk is great and 
the condition of Success is the surrender of 
every aspiration for literary fame. Had there 
been a Dramatic Authors' Law in Shakespeare's 
day, we should have had his plays revised and 
corrected by himself and published during his 
life. He made his money by acting them, and 
could not afford, by publication, to surrender 
the privilege to rival theaters. 

When it is remembered that all the European 
governments have by law recognized the authors' 
right of representation in compositions designed 
for representation; that the bill now before the 
House is adverse to no interest and is opposed 
by no person, out of the House — that it cannot 
possibly do any harm or wrong to any human 
being — that it may have as it is likely to have, a 
good effect in stimulating the efforts of men of 
genius in the United States in the drama, — a 
branch of literature more neglected among us 
than any other, — and that those members who 
may take a leading part in procuring its passage 
are very likely to be remembered with gratitude 
by those whose gratitude is sometimes immor- 
tality it is hardly to be supposed — at least I 
cannot suppose — the bill will meet any opposi- 
tion, should the Committee being in charge 
report favorably, and one or two members say 
a good word in its behalf. If it goes to the 
Senate, I feel satisfied it will not meet with any 
difficulty there. 

I have not thought it necessary in writing you 
this note to say anything about my personal 



150 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

experience — now almost an old world recollec- 
tion — of matters bearing on the question you 
have at heart. I do not think, however, that 
my experience would be found to differ from 
yours. I do not know that this bill if it became 
a law would ever be of any benefit to me ; but I 
am very sure, if there had been such a law in 
existence twenty years ago, I should not have 
abandoned dramatic writing, as I did, in what 
was the moment of Success and the period of 
youthful vigor and enthusiasm. I have enough 
of the old leaven to feel a sympathy in the cause 
— (eleven or twelve years ago as I once men- 
tioned to you I endeavored having an attack of 
the old ardor Scribendi) to get such a bill in- 
troduced into Congress, but, it being near the 
close of the session, I laid it over for next year, 
by which time, my attention was absorbed by 
other matters; and, while doubting whether I 
shall ever again feel any ambition to delight the 
groundlings, I am desirous that you and others 
who will rise around you may escape the evils 
of the discouraging system under which I 
suffered 

George H. Boker. Robt. Bird. 

The spring and summer of 1853 again brought 
their return of ill health. In March, in July, in 
October, and November, Dr. Bird was at the point 
of a breakdown to avert which he went West, 
then to Cape May, and finally to the Delaware 
Water Gap for a month in the late summer and 
early fall. From the Kittatinny House he sent 
four editorials, describing the Gap and its environs, 



LAST DAYS 151 

that appeared in The North American, August 10th, 
August 25th, September 2d, and September 8th. 
With the approach of the year 1854, certain 
changes in the conduct of the paper were suggested ; 
among others, the paper was to be enlarged; a 
one-sixth share in the business was for sale and to 
exchange hands. To the first of these changes Dr. 
Bird was strongly and unreservedly opposed. It 
entailed added labor and expense, would probably 
impair the quality of the paper, and would cer- 
tainly reduce the profits. Regarding the second, 
he objected to any exchange which had in it an 
element of dishonesty and should lay the firm 
open to the charge of double dealing. He himself 
had refused to purchase the share at a cut figure 
believing it dishonest to buy it. Upon a chance 
examination of the firm's accounts he found a 
state of affairs that must be regarded as a directly 
contributing cause of his death. The share in 
question had been secretly disposed of; fake entries 
of expenditures and receipts had been made to his 
disadvantage; and the paper against his wish and 
without his knowledge was being enlarged. The 
pain of misplaced friendship in conjunction with 
prolonged overwork brought on in January, 1854, 
the fatal attack of "effusion on the brain." 1 



1 " (Dr. Bird) wore himself out in the service of The North 
American. Its labors and more especially its troubles killed him. 
Of this I am as firmly convinced as that I survive him, and that 
he was cut off just as he was beginning to reap the reward of his 
toil." Mrs. Bird to Dr. E. R. Mayer, July 5, 1854. 



152 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

The death of Dr. Bird is thus described by Dr. 
Edward R. Mayer, his brother-in-law, in a letter 
to the Hon. John M. Clayton, January 24, 1854, 
the day after: 

"You know that Dr. Bird had suffered re- 
peatedly in the last two years from attacks of 
illness of a kind calculated to depress his mind 
and lessen the activity of all his vital powers. 
These were the occasion of much distress and 
anxiety to him not from any unworthy fear of 
pain, sickness, or death, but from his tender 
solicitude for the welfare of those who would be 
left behind him. These fears and a life of occu- 
pation of a sedentary kind brought about the 
result, which they made him apprehend and 
guard against. Since the first days of the present 
year, he had been confined to his home by a 
slight illness which did not attract much atten- 
tion or prevent him from writing a daily editor- 
ial until Saturday the 14th instant, when he 
became more seriously ill. It was then dis- 
covered that he had been through his illness 
morbidly anxious and concerned about business 
matters, and that intense mental excitement 
acting upon a brain already weakened by de- 
pressing causes had developed dangerous dis- 
ease. During the early part of last week he 
became more enfeebled in body and mind, and 
his thoughts began to wander. 

"Perfectly passive and gentle, still conscious 
of his condition and with the presentiment that 
death was upon him, all the affections of his 
fervent, loving nature gushed out in words of 
endearment to his wife and child. Even his 
moments of delirium showed his ever present 



LAST DAYS 153 

dread of the future that awaited those so near 
and dear to him, while not a word indicated a 
feeling of fear for himself or a thought incom- 
patible with his unselfish and generous nature. 

"On Wednesday he became much worse and 
I secured for him the valuable counsel of Pro- 
fessor Wood, who continued to visit him with 
me to the last. Notwithstanding active and 
appropriate treatment, he became daily worse 
and after sinking rapidly through the night of 
Sunday, he died yesterday morning at 9.00 of 
effusion on the brain." 

Dr. Bird died, then, Monday, January 23, 1854, 
at his home No. 60 Filbert Street, Philadelphia. 
His malady was the same as that which carried 
Thackeray to his grave. He was buried Thursday, 
January 26th, in Laurel Hill Cemetery, Philadel- 
phia. He died, according to Dr. Mayer, intestate, 
leaving an estate which consisted "of a small lot 
of ground in New Castle yielding no revenue, and 
of personal property which includes one third 
share of The North American and Gazette and the 
right to a very small income from such of the works 
of the deceased as may be published or republished 
hereafter. This estate is burdened with a debt of 
more than $20,000 to yourself (Clayton) and of 
$2000 to a brother of Dr. Bird's." 1 

Robert Montgomery Bird has been dead sixty- 
four years. That would not be a long time for one 
whose name is to live on the lips of men ; it is amply 

• Dr. E. R. Mayer to John M. Clayton. 



154 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

long to make possible a just assessment of the man 
and his works. The rights of personal acquain- 
tanceship and affection have long since been 
honored. We are in a position to appraise the man 
apart as well as in relation to his time. 

It cannot be said today that the name of Dr. 
Bird has become either widely or generally known ; 
it can be said confidently that he is far from en- 
tirely forgotten. To the student of our native 
literature he holds a place of acknowledged im- 
portance. Biographical dictionaries and histories 
of American literature with any aim at complete- 
ness can ill afford to omit an account of his life. 
Any selection of representative plays or novels 
would do well to include work from his pen. In 
many libraries and literary clubs of the city of his 
adoption, his portrait, — a noble face, handsome 
though resembling in general feature that of 
Thackeray, — is not infrequently seen. But the 
name of Robert Montgomery Bird today is com- 
paratively seldom heard. And yet, the writer 
strongly feels this partial disesteem is the more 
undeserved because the works of Bird are with 
many still living a vivid recollection. It is sur- 
prising how many of the generation that is passing 
well recall the glory of Spartacus in the hands of 
Edwin Forrest, John McCullough, and Robert 
Downing; or whose imaginations still kindle at 
the thought of the Jibbenainosay in Nick of the 
Woods. The writer was time and again struck 
with the number of older men, kind enough to 



LAST DAYS 155 

answer his inquiries, who read these romances of 
Bird "many golden years ago" and still retain a 
sharp impression of the characters and their 
plights. : These they well remembered ; the name 
of the author they frequently forgot. This fact, 
a divorce of the man from his works, marked the 
whole career of Dr. Bird. In Europe he naturally 
fared no better. In England each of his romances, 
as we have seen, was given at least one edition. 
Some of them with altered titles sold through 
successive editions. They may possibly have 
extended his reputation, but they brought him no 
substantial return. The only acknowledgment 
of his claim as author that he received from Eng- 
lish bookmen was "four handsomely printed 
volumes (of Calavar) under the title of Abdalla, 
the Moor." 2 Nick of the Woods in its German 
version had, according to Mrs. Bird, a sale of over 
ten thousand copies. This romance still occasion- 
ally issues from the American and English press 
in popular form. So it can be said also that if the 
demand for Dr. Bird's works has dwindled, it has 
not entirely ceased. It remains briefly to conclude 
regarding the place of Robert Montgomery Bird 
among American men of letters. 

In more ways than one Dr. Bird is to be regarded 
as a pioneer. He was a professional writer in 

1 The late Hon. Samuel W. Pennypacker, ex-governor of 
Pennsylvania, is reported to have made the statement that "as 
a boy he sat up all night over Bird's Nick of the Woods." 

2 Notes of Mrs. Bird. 



156 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

America before writing was a well-established 
profession. True, a long list of men had preceded 
him, who wrote and wrote well, but with few 
exceptions they were theologians, teachers, diplo- 
mats, or journalists, who employed the pen, to 
use an old figure, as a staff to walk with rather 
than a prop. Bird like Brockden Brown, and not 
much later than he, deliberately abandoned a 
profession to adopt literature as a career. In this 
sense, too, Bird was a pioneer playwright, the most 
considerable of that group called forth by the 
munificence of Edwin Forrest to lay what he hoped 
might prove the groundwork of a dramatic litera- 
ture in America. He wrote the greatest number 
of Forrest's prize plays, and his work among his 
competitors has the strongest claims to perman- 
ence. Furthermore, he set about the work with an 
originality all his own. To be sure, he kept before 
him Elizabethan models of construction; but his 
central aim in The Gladiator was to fashion a part 
which should fit and display the individuality of 
the first American tragedian of his day. The per- 
fection of that fit is amply attested by Forrest's 
lifelong success with the play. In Oralloossa and 
The Broker of Bogota as well as in Calavar and 
The Infidel, he still showed pioneer tendencies in 
pushing forth for his material, into regions and 
periods of history hitherto untouched in fiction. 

But what of Bird's accomplishment, judged if 
one may use the phrase, by the national standard 
of achievement? To apply the absolute and to 



LAST DAYS 157 

compare him with the greatest that have said and 
sung is needlessly to belittle him. The final 
appraisement of course must rest on the plays 
and romances. His verse, abundant and facile 
though it is, has little claim to serious considera- 
tion ; it was written hastily, largely for the fun of 
the thing, and unwillingly owned by Dr. Bird 
himself. His contributions to the magazines were 
fragmentary and occasional; his editorials and 
medical writings belong elsewhere. It is by his 
plays and novels that we must remember him if 
remembered he is to be. Of his plays, then, judged 
by the level of American achievement in drama, 
four deserve preservation, Pelopidas, The Gladia- 
tor, Oralloossa, and The Broker of Bogota. Of these 
the second and the fourth have permanently 
enriched our dramatic literature: The Gladiator, 
because of its superb representation of physical 
realism, its expert portrayal of elemental man, its 
effective adaptation to a great actor of a certain 
type, and because of one scene that all but reaches 
a height of first power judged by what standard we 
will ; The Broker oj Bogota, for its efficient construc- 
tion, its general acting qualities, and for the part of 
Baptista Febro, a character of remarkable veracity 
and scope, — hale, courteous, plain, outspoken, 
strong, yet weak through years and overpowering 
affection. It is to be recalled, too, that these two 
plays proved their dramatic worth on many stages 
in America and England as well. The part played 
by The Gladiator in the fame and fortune of Edwin 



158 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Forrest we have seen. It was the play in which 
John McCullough first appeared as an established 
star, and by a coincidence the last he ever acted. * 
The prose romances of Dr. Bird, too, represent a 
solid achievement. They belong, it is true, to a 
category which precludes them from the rank of 
those great novels that bring to their readers a 
world message. Like many of Scott and Cooper 
they are essentially boys' books. A fresh illumina- 
tion of the meaning of life is not their aim. And 
yet they have just claims to virtues that should 
once and for all discourage invidious comparisons, 
as have been made, between them and the 'dime- 
novel." Like those of his two great forerunners 
and no less than theirs, the novels of Dr. Bird 
represent conscientious workmanship. This work- 
manship in the case of his Mexican romances was 
carried to such a point of accuracy as to win com- 
mendation from expert historians of the period. 
"Dr. Bird in his picturesque romance of Calavar, " 
saysPrescott in his Conquest of Mexico, "hasstudied 
with great care the costume, manners, and military 
uses of the natives. He has done for them what 
Cooper has done for the wild tribes of the North, — 
touched their rude features with the bright color- 
ing of a poetic fancy. He has been equally for- 
tunate in his delineation of the picturesque scenery 
of the land." 2 Again the novels of Dr. Bird with- 

1 For an account of McCullough as Spartacus see Winter, The 
Wallet of Time, vol. i., pp. 271-273. He first played the part in 
New York, May 4, 1874. 2 Vol. ii., p. 336, footnote. 



LAST DAYS 159 

out exception of a single chapter are thoroughly 
wholesome. A perfect purity sweetens every 
page. His characters have a hardihood and 
strength that invigorate like those of Scott's. The 
scenes of his novels are often in mountain passes 
and malarial swamps; their concern, mainly with 
the roughest adventure; but his men and women 
are free from the slightest taint of pruriency. They 
are often cruel, barbarous, deceptive; they are 
always robust, elemental, wholesome. And finally 
there is the tribute of the style of these books, 
undeniably diffuse and prolix at times, but often 
neat, fluent, melodious, vividly pictorial and dra- 
matically intense. 

Finally, of Dr. Bird's lovable character as a man, 
of his extraordinary capacity for friendship, of his 
idealism, and the princely qualities of his heart, 
there can be no better statement than that of a 
contemporary and associate, who at the time of his 
death thus wrote of Dr. Bird. After mention of his 
rich endowments he continues: "Nor had nature 
been less munificent in the qualities of his heart — 
which was great with great virtues — chivalric in 
its courage, soft in its gentleness, liberal, loyal, 
loving. It is a grief to lose, from the scenes of life, 
such a nature; but it is a triumph that such a 
nature has lived, and been with and of us, and shall, 
we trust, be so again." ' 

1 The North American and United States Gazette, January 24, 
1854- 



APPENDIX A 

The following is a list of the American and European editions 
of Bird's romances, in the order of their writing. 

AMERICAN EDITIONS 

Calavar: or, The Knight of the Conquest; a romance of Mexico. 
Philadelphia, Carey, Lea& Blanchard, 1834. 2 vo ^ s - I2 °- 

[Another Edition.] 1837. 

Calavar; or, The Knight of the Conquest; a romance of Mexico. 
By R. M. Bird. A new ed. Philadelphia, Lea & Blan- 
chard, 1847. 2 vols. 

Calavar, a Romance of Mexico. New York, J. S. Redfield, 
1854. 12 . 

Calavar, The Knight of the Conquest. 111. W. J. Widdleton, 1876. 

12°. 

The Infidel; or, The Fall of Mexico. A romance. By the author 
of Calavar. Philadelphia, Carey, Lea & Blanchard, 1835. 
2 vols. 12°. 

The Hawks of Hawk Hollow. A tradition of Pennsylvania. By 
the author of Calavar. Philadelphia, Carey, Lea & Blan- 
chard, 1835. 2 vols. 12°. 

Sheppard Lee. Written by himself. New York, Harper & 
Brothers, 1836. 2 vols. 

Nick of the Woods, or, The Jibbenainosay. A tale of Kentucky . 
By the author of Calavar. Philadelphia, Carey, Lea & 
Blanchard, 1837. 2 vols. 12 . 

Nick of the Woods; or, The Jibbenainosay. A tale of Kentucky. 
By Robert Montgomery Bird. A new ed., rev. by the 
author. New York, J. S. Redfield, 1853. 2 pt. 12 . 

Nick of the Woods; or, The Jibbenainosay. W. J. Widdleton, 
1876. 12°. 

Nick of the Woods. Burrows, 1904. 12 . 

Nick of the Woods. A story of the Early Settlers in Kentucky, 
A. L. Burt, 1905. 12 . 

11 161 



162 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

Peter Pilgrim; or, a rambler's recollections. By the author of 
Calavar, Nick of the Woods, etc. Philadelphia, 1838. 2 
vols. 12°. 

The Adventures of Robin Day. By the author of Calavar. Phila- 
delphia, Lea & Blanchard, 1839. 2 vols. 12 . 

The Adventures of Robin Day. Philadelphia, Lea, 1839. 2 vols. 
8°. 

ENGLISH EDITIONS 

Abdalla the Moor and the Spanish Knight: A romance of Mexico. 
London, Newman, 1835. 4 vols. 12 . [The original title 
was Calavar.] 

The Infidel; or, The Fall of Mexico, London, 1835. 12°. 

Cortes; or, The Fall of Mexico: A romance. Bentley, 1835. 3 
vols. 12 . [The original title was The Infidel.} 

Cortes; or, The Fall of Mexico. London, 1835. 3 vols. 12 . 
[The original title was The Infidel.] 

The Hawks of Hawk Hollow. Bentley, 1837. 3 vols. 12 . 

The Hawks of Hawk Hollow. By Dr. Bird. London, Ward & 
Lock, 1856. 8°. 

Nick of the Woods, a story of Kentucky. By the author of 
Spartacus, etc. Edited by W. H. Ainsworth, London, 1837. 
3 vols. 8°. 

Nick of the Woods. Bentley, 1837. 3 vols. 12 . 

Nick of the Woods. London, 1854. l &°- 

Nick of the Woods; or, Adventures of Prairie Life. By Robert M. 
Bird. London, Ward & Lock, 1856. 

[Another Edition.] i860. 8°. 

[Another Edition.] 1872. 12 . 

Nick of the Woods; or, Adventures of Prairie Life. Routledge, 
1883. 8°. 

Nick of the Woods; or, Adventures of Prairie Life. London, Ni- 
cholson. 12 . (Contains also Daniel Wise and Ashcourt 
Roderick.) 

Peter Pilgrim, a Tale. Bentley, 1839. 2 vols. 12 . 

GERMAN EDITION 
Die Gefahren der Wildnis. Eine Erzahlung fur die reifere 
Jugend. Nach dem Englischen [Nick of the Woods] bear- 
beitet von Franz Hoffmann. Mit Bildern. Stuttgart, 
1847. 8°. 



APPENDICES 163 

APPENDIX B 

The following is a complete list, chronologically arranged, of 
Bird's contributions to magazines: 

Fount of Blandusia. A poem, translation from Horace, in 

Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, October, 1827. 
Saul's Last Day. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 

October, 1827. 
The Dying Bride. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 

November, 1827. It is signed B., like other of his verse, 

and is probably Dr. Bird's. 
The Miniature. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 

November, 1827. 
The Dead Soldier. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 

November, 1827. A/&7~~ 
The Death of Meleager. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly 

Magazine, December, 1827. 
Rest in Thine Isle. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 

December, 1827. 
The Ice Island. A tale in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 

December, 1827. 
The Spirit of the Reeds. A story in Philadelphia Monthly 

Magazine, January, 1828. 
Friendship. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, January , 

1828. 
The Phantom Players. A tale in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine , 

May, 1828. 
Changing Heart, Away from Me. A poem in Philadelphia 

Monthly Magazine, July, 1828. 
To Lyce. A poem, translation from Horace, in Philadelphia 

Monthly Magazine, August, 1828. 
Brunette. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, August, 

1828. 
Summer. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, August, 

1828. 
The Helots. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, Septem- 
ber, 1828. 
The Love Sick Minstrel. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly 

Magazine, September, 1828. 



1 64 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

She opes her eyes and oh my bosom's swell! A poem in New 

York Mirror, May, 1832. 
Mary. A sonnet in the New York Mirror, May 12, 1832. 
The Beech Tree. A poem in New York Mirror, March, 1834. 
The China Tree. A poem in Knickerbocker Magazine, January , 

1835. 
To Governor M'Duffie. A poem in New England Magazine, 

February, 1835. 
An Evening Ode. A poem in Knickerbocker Magazine, February, 

1835, and also in The Commercial Herald. 
Ode to the Sycamore. Written for the Buckeyes' celebration of 

the 47th anniversary of the Landing at the mouth of the 

Muskingum River, Ohio, April, 1835. 
Community of Copy-Right. An Article in Knickerbocker Maga- 
zine, October, 1835. 
An Address. A poem in National Gazette, January, 1836. It was 

written for and delivered at the Wood Complimentary 

Benefit. 
Lament. A poem in United States Gazette, April, 1837. 
The Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. A descriptive article in 

American Monthly Magazine, May and June, 1837. This 

was later incorporated in Peter Pilgrim. 
A Tale of a Snag. A story in American Monthly Magazine, 

August, 1837. This was later incorporated in Peter Pilgrim. 
The Extra Lodger. A story in New York Mirror, November 

10, 1838. It had already appeared in Peter Pilgrim. 
God Bless America. A poem. 

Romance of Cid Ramon. A poem. Printed from Calavar. 
The Belated Revenge. A story (partly by Frederick Mayer 

Bird) in Lippincott's Magazine, November, 1889. 



APPENDIX C 

MISCELLANEOUS PUBLICATIONS 

Valedictory address delivered before the graduates of Pennsyl- 
vania Medical College: session of 1842-43. Philadelphia, 
Merrihew, 1843. 8°. 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 165 

A Belated Revenge. Philadelphia, Lippincott. [This was begun 
by Dr. Bird under the title of Ipsico Poe, The Long Hunter, 
and written to Chapter XV., at which point his son took it 
up and completed it. It was first published as "A Belated 
Revenge" in Lippincott' s Magazine, November, 1889.] 

The Broker of Bogota, a tragedy in five acts. Printed in Quinn, 
A. H., Ed., Representative American Plays. New York, 1917. 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 

Without pretending to be exhaustive, the following is a list 
of readily accessible books that should serve as guides to those 
who desire further to investigate the period covered by Dr. 
Bird's life. 

Adams, W. Davenport. A Dictionary of the Drama. Philadel- 
phia, 1904. 

Alger, William R. Life of Edwin Forrest. 2 volumes. Phila- 
delphia, 1877. 

Barrett, Lawrence. Edwin Forrest. Boston, 1882. 

Beers, H. A. Nathaniel Parker Willis. Boston, 1885. "Amer- 
ican Men of Letters." 

Brown, T. A. A History of the New York Stage. From the 
First Performance in 1732 to 1901. 3 volumes. New 
York, 1903. 

Cairns, W. B. On the Development of American Literature from 
18 1 5 to 1833. With Especial Reference to Periodicals. 
Madison, Wisconsin, 1898. 

Clarence, Reginald T. The Stage Cyclopedia. London, 1909. 

Coad, Oral Sumner. William Dunlap. Dunlap Society 
Publications. Series 3, volume 2. 

Conrad, Henry Clay. History of the State of Delaware. 3 
volumes. Wilmington, Delaware, 1908. 

Dunlap, William. History of American Theatre. New York, 
1832. 2 volumes. London, 1833. 

Durang, Charles. The Philadelphia Stage. From the year 
1749 to the year 1855. Partly compiled from the papers 
of his father, the late John Durang; with notes by the editors 



166 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 

(of the Philadelphia Sunday Dispatch). Published serially 

in the Philadelphia Dispatch as follows : First Series, 1 749- 

1821, beginning in the issue of May 7, 1854; Second Series, 

1 822- 1 830, beginning June 29, 1856; Third Series, 1830- 

1855, beginning July 8, i860. 
Griswold, R. G. Prose Writers of America. Philadelphia, 

1847. 
Ireland, J. N. Records of the New York Stage, from 1750 to 

i860. 2 volumes, New York, 1866-67. 
Lounsbury, Thomas R. James Fenimore Cooper. Boston, 

1883. "American Men of Letters." 
McCullough, Bruce Welker. The Life and Writings of 

Richard Penn Smith. With a Reprint of His Play, The 

Deformed, 1833. A Pennsylvania Thesis, 1917. 
Moses, M. J. The American Dramatist. Boston, 191 1. 
Moses, Montrose J. Famous Actor Families in America. New 

York, 1906. 
Murdoch, James E. The Stage, or Recollections of Actors and 

Acting from an Experience of Fifty Years. Philadelphia, 

1880. 
Oberholtzer, Ellis Paxson. Philadelphia; a History of the 

City and Its People, a Record of 225 Years. Philadelphia, 

1911. 

Literary History of Philadelphia. Philadelphia, 1906. 

Quinn, Arthur H. "The Early Drama, 1756-1860, " in The 

Cambridge History of American Literature, volume i., p. 215. 

Representative American Plays. New York, 1917. 

Rees, James. The Dramatic Authors of America. Philadelphia, 

1845. 

The Life of Edwin Forrest. Philadelphia, n. d. [1874]. 

Sartain, John. Reminiscences of a Very Old Man. New York, 

1900. 
Seilhamer, G. O. History of the American Theater . 3 volumes, 

Philadelphia, 1888-91. 
Smyth, A. H. The Philadelphia Magazines and Their Contribu- 
tors, 1741-1850. Philadelphia, 1892. 
Trent, William P. William Gilmore Simms. Boston, 1892, 

"American Men of Letters." 
Tuckerman. Life of John Pendleton Kennedy. New York, 

1917. 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 167 

Tyson, J. R. Sketch of the Wistar Party of Philadelphia. Phila- 
delphia, 1898. 
Wallack, Lester. Memories of Fifty Years Ago. New York, 

1889. 
Wemyss, F. C. Theatrical Biography of Eminent Actors and 

Authors. New York [185-]. 
Twenty-six Years of Life of an Actor Manager. 2 volumes. 

New York, 1847. 
— — Chronology of the American Stage from 1752-1852. New 

York, n. d. [1852]. 
Winter, William. The Wallet of Time, Containing Personal, 

Biographical and Critical Reminiscences of the American 

Theater. 2 volumes. New York, 1913. 
Other Days; Being Chronicles and Memories of the Stage. 

New York, 1908. 
Wood's Diary. A Manuscript Diary or Daily Account Book of 

W. B. Wood, in 9 volumes, extending from 1810 to 1835. 

(In Library of the University of Pennsylvania.) 
Wood, W. B. Personal Recollections of the Stage . . . During a 

Period of Forty Years. Philadelphia, 1835. 
Woodberry, George E. Edgar Allan Poe. Boston, 1885. 

"American Men of Letters." 



PART II 
DRAMATIC WORKS 



169 



PELOPIDAS 

The texts of the following plays are in each case 
based on manuscript copies in the collection of 
Bird papers recently presented to the Library of 
the University of Pennsylvania by the grandson 
of the author, Mr. Robert Montgomery Bird, of 
Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. 

The present text of Pelopidas is that of the best 
and fullest autograph copy in the Bird collection. 
There are two other complete autograph manu- 
scripts of the play. Pelopidas was finished in the 
fall of 1830. Although it was accepted by Edwin 
Forrest as a prize-play, it was never produced on 
the stage. 



171 



PELOPIDAS 

OR 

THE FALL OF THE POLEMARCHS 
A Tragedy 

in FIVE ACTS 

i 830-1 840 



173 



PELOPIDAS 

Persons Represented 

Leontidas, a Theban, ) 

A , f 1 he Polemarchs, or Tyrants, 

Archias, ) _ V „__ , J 

\ Spartans, j o/ Thebes. 

Philidas, /^eir Secretary. 

Melon, nephew of Philidas. 

Hippoclus, father of Pelopidas. 

Charon, a Theban, friend to Pelopidas. 

Pelopidas, \ 

Damoclides, V Theban Patriots. 

Laon, and others. ) 

Hylas, a boy, son of Pelopidas. 

Lycophron, son of Charon. 

Sibylla, wife of Pelopidas. 

Guests, Soldiers, Musicians , Dancers, Slaves, &c. 

SCENE — At first, Athens: afterwards, Thebes in 
Bceotia. 



i74 



PELOPIDAS 

ACT I 

SCENE I. Athens. The Acropolis. {Enter Laon, 
Damoclides, and other Theban Exiles.) 

LAON 

No hope for Thebes? Still trampled by her tyrants! 

And Athens hath no arm of help for her 

That help'd herself from bonds, — no sword to strike 

The enemy that, of late, her own towns master'd, 

And ground her sons in slavery, — hated Sparta! 

This is the virtue, then, of Athens; where, 

Scarce lodged and countenanced, scarce guarded from 

The assassin knives with which our foes pursue us, 

We drag out painfully a life of exile, 

Martyrs of freedom. No, there is no hope, 

While Athens still denies us. 

DAM. 

There is hope, 
Long as Pelopidas is with us ! Yield 
All to despair, — while still I see his eye 
Set upon yonder mountains, which enclose 
Our fallen city, and in that eye the look 
Of a true Greek and Theban, I will hope, 
Though against hope. Believe me, he will yet 
Move the Athenians. 

i75 



176 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LAON 

By Minerva, no! 
Witness the anger of her Senators, 
When her brave youth, leaping at our first call, 
Offer' d their friendly swords to strike for Thebes; 
What said the Senators? — Athens is at peace, 
And Sparta her ally. 

DAM. 

This was, good Laon, 
Their public voice; and policy required it. 
They give Pelopidas better hope in private. 

LAON 

How much of hope ? A promise to permit 
Their youth — the fiery band that burn to join us — 
To march to Thebes when — we have conquer'd it! 
This is but mockery: Give us Thebes, and what 
Care we for help from Athens ? 

DAM. 

I would, i'faith, 
They were less politic. But set thine eye 
Upon Pelopidas : hope flies not him: 
There's something stirs within him ; some brave vision 
Is opening on his mind, — some glorious thought 
That speaks of Thebes and freedom. Yestermorn 
He was as sad as thou, and on this rock 
Sat weeping for his country ; — it was when 
He heard of Philidas, his old friend's defection, 
(That traitor whom the Polemarchs reward 
For his apostacy with the highest office 
Near to their persons :) but at night I found him 



PELOPIDAS 177 

Transform 'd in look and spirit, — no more an exile 

Pining with sorrow, but a Theban chief, 

With flashing eye, and warrior tread, and look 

Of angry joy; — e'en just the man I saw him 

On his first field, the gory Mantinea, 

Hewing his path through ranks of death, and winning 

That fame which makes him, though the youngest 

here, 
First of all Thebans. Be sure, that change denotes us 
Something of good. Athens, perhaps, relents, 
And grants us succour. 

LA ON 

Would it were so — But lo ! 
Where is that fire you boasted? See, how dark 
And wild his aspect ! 

DAM. 

Dark and wild, I grant you, 
But yet not mournful ! — 

(Enter Pelopidas.) 

DAM. 

What, Pelopidas! 

PELOP. 

Damoclides ! — 

Are all here Thebans ? 

DAM. 

All. 



178 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Ay ! — Laon, Theopompus, 
Chlidon — true Thebans all ! — I would not have 
A stranger hear us, — there are spies about us. — 
New?, friends! — What, are ye ready? Grind your 

swords, 
Buckle your armour, mount your steeds : the time 
Has come for action. — Which of you will ride 
With me to Thebes? 

DAM. 
I! 



ALL 
I! 



But, pray you, speak. 



DAM. 

Hath Athens granted forces ? 

PELOP. 

Not a man; — 
Save on her hard original conditions. 
We for ourselves must toil. Think not of Athens- 
The gods are with us. 

LAON 

With the gods to aid us — 
And a battalion of Athenians — 
Thebes were our own. But with the gods alone, 
And our poor selves, — four hundred naked exiles, - 
What can we make against a garrison'd city, 
Where even our friends are turn'd against us? 



PELOPIDAS 179 

PELOP . 

What! 
Thou think' st of Philidas? I, too, thought him 

traitor, 
Bought to the service of the Polemarchs; 
And this unnerved me. By the gods! 'tis better 
To find the man we have call'd friend, and known 
A noble one, stoop down to baseness. — But Philidas 
Was never a traitor! Hark! I wept my friend, 
Thus turn'd a villain; when this letter reach'd me, 
By his own true hand written, — Philidas 
Is yet the friend of Thebes. 

LA ON 

Believe him not, 
Without a pledge. 

PELOP. 

He gives it, in a caution 
Worth twenty oaths of zeal : Beware, he writes, 
Of Iphias, the Athenian. 

LAON 

What! the pontiff, 
Who, ever, seems our truest friend? 

PELOP. 

A false one! 
Through him our subtlest plans have reach'd the 

tyrants, 
Through him their daggers strike us: Oh, believe me, 
What Philidas writes of him I have proved true. 



180 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

But, we've no time for words. — A second missive 
Reach'd me, to-day, by a true messenger, 
Who bears, already, an answer back to Thebes. 
Hark, in a word; — this Philidas, who, by craft, 
Works in our purpose, (and, for that end, has wound 
Into the tyrants' favours,) has entrapp'd them 
Into our hands: They feast with bim to-night: 
We must feast with them ! 

LAON 

We! 

PELOP. 

All is prepared, — 
The messenger sent back; and we, at midnight, 
Enter the city: at the Delian Gate, 
A friend receives us. 

LAON 

This is hasty ! 

PELOP. 

Laon, 
He that strikes tyrants must arm with thunderbolts ! — 
There is no time for counsel. He that loves Thebes 
Better than life, let him ride forth with me 
To slay her despots. Twelve of us alone 
Enter the city, (we must begone at once :) 
The rest, set out at nightfall, and take post 
Upon the Hill of Fortune; whence, that instant 
The Polemarchs have fallen, we summon them 
To storm the citadel. 



PELOPIDAS 181 

DAM. 

I, for one, love Thebes 
Better than life — Have at the Polemarchs! 

THE REST 

And I — and I — and I ! 

PELOP. 

Why there spoke men ! 
True sons of Thebes and freedom! — Thou, Laon, 
With the four hundred follow. 

LAON 

By Jove, not I ! 
The thing is hasty, as I said ; but I 
Yield the bright place of fame to none. Forgive me ; 
I'll have the first blow at the knaves! 

PELOP. 

Brave heart, 
I knew thou wouldst not fail me ! Be it so. 
Haste to your steeds : let no one know, in Athens, 
That you have left it: steal, one by one, away, 
And meet upon the road a league from Athens. 
Thence, all assembled, we set out together 
To do a deed of virtue, that shall keep, 
Throughout all time, our memories green and glorious ! 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. Thebes. A room in the house of 
Philidas. A storm of wind heard without. {Enter 
Philidas and Charon.) 



182 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CHAR. 

Said ye, to-night ! 

PHIL. 

Ay, noble friend, to-night: 
To-night the princely masters of Bceotia 
Feast with their honoured slave. Do not the fates 
Smile on us, Charon? — Ay! these crafty fools, 
That play so deeply on my gratitude, 
Calling me Secretary and their friend, 
Come blindly to the toils. They feast with me ! 
Is't not enough? The exiles are at hand, 
Pelopidas their head — 'Tis but a blow; 
And revelry and bondage end to together! 

CHAR. 

Yet we have no advices. 

PHIL. 

Have we not ! 
What, when the gods reveal their favour to us! 
The exiles come — You cannot think that Heaven 
Vouchsafes us these brave presages for laughter? 
A multitude — ay, the whole city — saw it ; — 
Three ravens croaking o'er the citadel, 
And filling all the air with their harsh clamour : 
Did not the rabble call them Polemarchs? 
And when the eagle pounced upon, and tore them, 
The veriest varlets cried, Pelopidas! 

CHAR. 

Would he were come, and come the great avenger 
Of his oppressed and outraged countrymen : 
There's no Boeotian but will follow him. 



PELOPIDAS 183 

PHIL. 

He will ! And, in reliance on his wisdom, 
I have sent him word of this our festival. 
Already, on the road, my nephew Melon 
Lies waiting him, to bring him to the city. 

{Enter melon.) 
What ! you have brought them ! 

CHAR. 

Have you found them ? 

MEL. 

No: 
I found an open and a desolate road, 
A gate unguarded; — a brave opportunity! 
A thousand men might pass it unmolested. 
The river thunders o'er his rocky bed; 
Old (Eolus, with his gusty myrmidons, 
Howls uproar through the air; and all the stars 
Shroud them in dismal sleety clouds. — A rare 
Fine night for mischief ! but the makers come not ! 

CHAR. 

Hark to the knave. For mischief! He looks on 
A deed which, at the least, slays many men, 
And may slay thousands, as a mischief -making ! 

MEL. 

Is it not, Charon? I'll not dignify it 

With any of your sounding names. Are tyrants 

Moulded of better clay than other men ? 



1 84 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Their souls of passions less corrupt and base 
Than the vile fires that fill a common breast ? 
What is there, then, to mark a tyrant's fall, 
Nobler than marks the death of other men ? 
Give them their names, — great rogues, — the deed that 

slays them 
Is but rogue-killing. But thousands fall with them! 
Well, what of that? a thousand baser rogues, — 
Slaves that support them, or endure their rule! 
Kill me ten thousand such, 'tis still rogue-killing. 
You twain the deed may call an act of virtue : 
To me 'tis mischief -making. — 

PHIL. 

Omens lie not : 
The messenger was faithful ! — Foolish nephew, 
Get thee to horse again, and to the highway: 
There posted, a true sentry, wait the coming 
Of those thou wot'st of. 

MEL. 

Why, they ne'er will come! 
In such a night as this, a winter storm 
Howling and freezing, no man can tread the paths 
O'er our rough mountains. 

PHIL. 

No man that fears, like thee, 
To face the blast. Sirrah, I do distrust thee! 
This cold sleet drove thee from thy post, where now 
Our brave friends wait thee. What, effeminate boy, 
Canst thou, who fly'st before a winter wind, 
E'er hope to face a Spartan? 



PELOPIDAS 185 

MEL. 

I am ready 
To face a dozen; ready, too, and able, 
Of mine own self, to do this perilous act, 
You think so grand and virtuous ! 

CHAR. 

What, to kill 
The Polemarchs? 

MEL. 

They banquet with my uncle. 
Make me their cupbearer — An ounce of hemlock 
Were better than a thousand patriots ! 
What hinders, then, to knock their guards o' th' head, 
Rouse up the growling citizens, besiege, 
And starve, the garrison in the Cadmea? 

PHIL. 

Thou speak'st a boy, although a brave one. — Hence 
To th' gates, and to Pelopidas; with whom, 
(A follower, where to follow is distinction,) 
Thy life of manhood thou shalt well begin, 
With hope to end in glory. To the gates, 
There to await the exiles. 

CHAR. 

And, hark ye, Melon: 
When found, conduct them to my house, — their 

harbour 
And fortress, till the hour of blood be come. 



186 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



MEL. 

Safely and secretly! 

PHIL. 



(Exit.) 



I pray, have ready 
A store of weapons; for, 'tis like, they dare not 
Enter in arms. 

(A clatter of arms is heard without.) 

CHAR. 

Hark! 

PHIL. 

'Tis the Polemarch ! 
My patron Archias! This bodes us news 
From Athens ! 

(Enter Archias, attended.) 

Hail, my prince and princely patron! 
The gods befriend me in your countenance. 

arch. 

Our faithful Philidas. — And Charon, too, 

Of the best blood of Thebes, — methinks, as faithful? 

CHAR. 

Ever your highness' slave. 

ARCH. 

We hope, some day, 
Charon will use a nobler name, — our friend. 



PELOPIDAS 187 



CHAR. 

Your highness would be with the Secretary. 
I humbly take my leave. 

{Exit.) 

ARCH. 

A hypocrite ! — 
But then all men are so: an enemy, 
It may be; — but to be the foe of power, 
Needs a great heart of courage! I do think him 
A friend (but, mark, in secret,) of the exiles; 
Perhaps that one (yet he hath scarce the spirit,) 
Of whom the pontiff speaks, — an unknown traitor, 
That hath sent letters to Pelopidas. 

PHIL. 

Is there such man in Thebes ? 

ARCH. 

So Iphias writes me; 
But who he knows not : and Iphias hath his eye 
Upon the exiles. — What, by Jove! I tell thee, 
Ere we yield up to pleasure, we must counsel 
Of the state's danger! 

PHIL. 

If it please my prince. 

ARCH. 

Know then, 'tis certain, (Iphias so reports it) 
Those banished traitors, whom (their chiefs cut off, 
None left them but the hot Pelopidas,) 
We deemed so lightly of, a broken faction, 



1 88 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Impotent and despairing, have roused up 
Into new life and energy, (as serpents, 
That sleep through winter in the spring arise 
Stronger in venom,) and straightway set their brains 
To plot new treasons. Some friend in Thebes (the 

knave 
Shall feed the jackals!) sends them hope and counsel: 
It was but yesterday, his courier (seen 
By Iphias' spies,) bore letters to Pelopidas, 
And, with his charges, fled from Athens. 

PHIL. 

This 
Calls for new vigilance. But did the pontiff 
Ravel the secret of the plot ? 

ARCH. 

The traitors 
Bear it too subtly. Yet something he hath learn'd; 
And he suspects, — nay, is assured, (so hotly 
Despair and their mad leader urge them on,) 
They scheme (what think'st thou?) a return to Thebes; 
Here, in the tyrants' den, to beard the tyrants 
And strike the blow for — faugh ! — for liberty. 

PHIL. 

This is most frantic! 

ARCH. 

And most fortunate : 
It brings them in our power. While Iphias sends us 
Word of their movements, we set our cunning traps, 
And their first step in Thebes is — on the scaffold ! 



PELOPIDAS 189 

PHIL. 

Mad traitors they ! And this bold visit when 
Make they, or meditate? 

ARCH. 

Full soon, says Iphias; 
Yet knows not : on the morrow, we shall hear ; 
Or soon as Iphias penetrates their secret. 

PHIL. 

Why then, most sure, the villains seek their death. 
Methinks, I see a way to lure them on 
Into the ready nets. 

ARCH. 

There spoke my Philidas ! 
To whom (for well I know, he hath a soul 
Full of all policy,) in such a strait, 
I come for counsel, rather than to my colleagues. 
Alas, thou know'st, to be a prince, is not 
To be a capable governor: (to thee, 
Who art my friend, I can speak plainly.) Fate 
Hath cursed me with associates all unfit 
For their high function. Dost thou think, that 

Philip — 
That thing of croaking fear and superstition, — 
Could aid, in such conjuncture? Or Leontidas? — 
Alas! when Sparta, from her Theban friends, 
Chose a third Polemarch, she sought not out 
The best and wisest; or her choice had ne'er 
Fall'n on Leontidas, — a man of pleasure, 
Who, on Sibylla's wanton lap, would rather 
Dream a charmed life away, than rise in arms 
Against her traitor husband. 



iQO DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

From such weak coadjutors, I must turn 
To my best friend and counsellor, Philidas; 
On whose wise policy I rely, to bring 
These dark affairs to issue. 

PHIL. 

Would I might prove 
Worthy your highness' praise. 

ARCH. 

Catch me these knaves ; 
Or but their chief, Pelopidas; (the rest 
Are but his tools and weapons — naught without 
The hand that wields them :) and look (if Archias 
Hath credit yet with Sparta,) soon to sit 
In the chair of Leontidas. 

PHIL. 

My wishes 
Aim at no higher office than to serve 
My most magnificent patron. But these traitors ! 
What if we send some seeming friend to them, 
To urge them in their purpose ? 

ARCH. 

If Iphias err not, 
They need no spur. The danger lies in this, — 
That, by a sudden frenzy goaded on, 
They may leap on us ere we have warning. 

PHIL. 

Give me 
Power o'er the guard: I'll have the gates so watched, 
No man shall pass without my eye upon him. 



PELOPIDAS 191 

ARCH. 

It shall be so! I'll serve thee and myself, 

In the same act. The gallant youth, thy nephew, 

Shall be made Captain of the Guard. 

phil. {Aside.) 

The gods 
Make them their own destroyers! — A wild youth, 
But brave and trusty; and for his faith I'll answer 
As for — my own. 



Our officer. 



ARCH. 

To-morrow, then, shall see him 

PHIL. 



To-night, my prince, to-night! 
Who knows what deeds this night may see attempted ? 
What if the traitors should set forth to-night ? 

ARCH. 

Thou hast no fears of that? 

PHIL. 

No fears, my prince : 
But the wise fight 'gainst possibilities. 

ARCH. 

I like thy zeal: it shall be as you wish. 

Have the youth in attendance at the banquet, 

To take his sword of office. 



192 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHIL. 

My prince's slave ! 

ARCH. 

And hark ye, Philidas, — I mean to prove 

My friendship further. That unknown knave in 

Thebes 
In correspondence with the traitors, — couldst thou 
Believe that man was Charon? 



I think him faithful. 



PHIL. 

Charon, my prince ! 

ARCH. 



By my life, not I. 
He hath the means to stir the people, — look you, 
This discontented rabble; which, averse 
To our authority, a rich man's gold 
May easily bribe to riot. 

PHIL. 

Alas, your highness, 
I ever held him ranked among your friends. 

ARCH. 

We'll have no friends with means to be our foes. 
His wealth is dangerous, and should be owned 
By trustier friends. Dost thou conceive me, Philidas ? 
Fasten on him (for thy shrewd wit may do it,) 
A charge of correspondence with the exiles, — 
And thou art heir to half his wealth. 



PELOPIDAS 193 

PHIL. 



Already on the block ! 



I see him 



ARCH. 

Why, then, for pleasure! 
The state is served; Archias may now unbend, 
And play the reveller, like any Theban. 
Fools, like Leontidas, may give their souls, 
And every thought, to pleasure, till the sense 
Surfeits and sickens o'er the constant feast : 
Better a Spartan knows, who, with denial 
And toil, his eager passions keep? alive, 
Ever with fullest appetite for bliss. 
This night to pleasure, then, my Philidas! 
Spread ye the board with dainties rich and rare ; 
Your halls with dancers and musicians fill ; 
And Thebes' best beauties summon to the feast, 
To crown with love and joy their Polemarchs. 

PHIL. 

Dainties of every clime shall spread the board : 
Fine dancers and musicians fill the halls ; 
And the most beauteous dames of Thebes appear, 
To crown with love and joy their Polemarchs! 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE III. Under the walls of Thebes. A storm 
blowing. {Enter Damoclides, Laon, and other exiles 
{eleven in all,) as Hunters, in skin cloaks.) 

DAM. 

Be of good heart. I warrant me, our leader 
Will find us hope, even in this misadventure. 



194 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

1ST EXILE. 

'Tis strange. 

LAON 

What ! that we are under our own walls, 
And something doubtful, like to whipt out curs, 
Whether to enter ! 

DAM. 

Friends ! ye are discontented ! 
This speaks not well for Thebans. Will ye shrink 
From the bold deed that frees a bleeding country, 
Which ye have sworn so often to achieve? 

LAON 

Shrink ! If you put me once but on the track 
Of a Spartan, peasant be he or Polemarch, 
And find me shrink from following, proclaim me 
A braggart. But to be kept here, exposed 
To biting tempests, and to feel the strength 
Which should be spent upon our enemies, 
Wasting before a north-wind, while the tyrants 
Are feasting warmly in our palaces; 
This moves me. And no villain messenger 
To bid us to the city ! Is this juggling? 
Or are our colleagues in the city cowards ? 
Who'll answer for their spirit or their faith ? 

(Enter Pelopidas.) 

PELOP. 

I, Laon! — This unbecoming peevishness, 
Which rashly charges a long trusted friend 



PELOPIDAS 195 

With an unworthy motive, is unworthy. 
Fy ! you know not how many eyes are set 
On the obscurest citizen of Thebes : 
Think'st thou the titled Philidas is unwatched ? 
And who will warrant, mine own messenger 
Has yet found opening to approach him? 

LAON 

True: 
Therefore I yield me petulant and rash . 
But the main cause of trouble still remains : 
What's to be done? Without advices, shall we 
Break a gate open with our fists, and fight, 
We twelve, against their thousands? Or remain 
Here on the road, warming ourselves with fury. 
Till morning mars us ? Or retire to Athens, 
To meet the laughter of her citizens, 
And the hireling knife and poison of assassins ? 

PELOP. 

To enter unadvisedly were death ; 
To pause, the same ; but to retreat were worse — 
That were dishonour. At the Delian Gate 
I looked to find a friend : this charged I Philidas. 
No man is there, — none save the drowsy warders, 
Whom 'twere not hard to pass, were't wise to pass. 
Whate'er the luckless cause of this mishap, 
'Tis most unfortunate, — yet must not stay us. 
The steel that rids our country of her tyrants 
Must strike to-night, or never. Be assured, 
The spies and murderers that, like vultures, hung 
Upon our exiled paths, and made, in Athens, 
The firesides of our friends as perilous to us 



196 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

As Theban prisons, have, ere now, discovered 

Our flight from Athens, and advice despatched 

To the three tyrants. — What! we must forestall them. 

LAON 

But how? 

PELOP. 

One of us, venturing for the rest, 
Must pass the gate, and seek our friends. 

LAON 

And who 
Will undertake this madman's enterprise ? 
I say naught of its peril ; since not that 
Would hinder me. But, as ten thousand chances 
Make against one, that he who volunteers it, 
Falls in the tyrants' hands, and thus, not only 
Brings death upon himself and all that follow, 
But ruins our poor country's latest hope, — 
I think, none here will choose to be that one. 

PELOP. 

Thou art deceived ; myself will be that one ! 
It is an office of honour which I covet 
Next unto that of striking the first blow : 
And whatsoe'er betide myself, I swear 
By Pluto, never a man here standing by me 
Shall rue the enterprise. Lie here in wait. 
If there be yet in Thebes a friend of Thebes, 
Ye shall full soon be sent for. For myself, 
Expect me not. When I set out from Athens, 
I made my vow to Jove, — and here repeat it, — 
Once enter'd that wronged city, ne'er again 
To leave it, living, whilst a tyrant lives. 



PELOPIDAS 197 



DAM. 

May the gods speed ye, who have raised ye up 
To be our leader ! We will trust our lives 
And honours in your keeping. 

LA ON 

Ay, Heaven speed ye ! 
A man may grumble, and be honest too. 
But pardon a weak jealousy, which I 
Must utter: — In yon city, noble friend, 
You may find many valiant spirits, ready 
To join and strike with you. 

PELOP. 

I hope so, Laon. 

LAON 

If you do take them with you to the act, 
Forgetting us to whom the deed belongs, 
Robbing us of the honour — 

PELOP. 

Never doubt me : 
You shall be sent for presently, and find 
Friends to support, not to precede ye. 

LAON 

I am content. 

PELOP. 

Let one be ready with the fleetest horse, 

That moment my messenger reaches ye, to spur 



198 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

To th' Hill of Fortune for our friends; and thence 
To Athens, to bring on the band of youths, 
Allowed to march, when we have won the city — 
And we shall win it. We must have assistance, 
At dawn, to invest and storm the citadel. 
To-morrow's eve must find no warring Spartan 
Breathing in Thebes. 

DAM. 

This shall be done. 

PELOP. 

And when 
Ye follow him that I shall send for you, 
Be it in silence and simplicity, 
As huntsmen still. Let no one straggle from you, 
To visit his home ; but follow sternly on 
To where brave deeds and everlasting honour 
Await you. 

DAM. 

This is well. 

PELOP. 

And hark ye, friends. — 
Since the gross cunning of a silly peasant 
May trap a tiger, a mere man, like me, 
May chance upon some pitfall, which the craft 
Of yonder tyrants hollows in our path. 

LAON 

Well ! Doth Pelopidas talk of peril ? 



PELOPIDAS 199 

PELOP. 

Ay: 
Why should I not ? I have a wife, brave Laon : 
A boy, too, who, if the great gods but spare him, 
Will one day spit at Spartans. — 

DAM. 

Noble friend, 
Rest you content. There's never a Theban here 
Will e'er desert them. 

PELOP. 

And my gray old father? 



He shall be ours. 



DAM. 



PELOP. 



Why then this feat is nothing! 
I shall now think of naught but Thebes. — Farewell : 
Be of good heart, and ready. — Farewell, farewell. 
This night ye banquet with the Polemarchs ! 

{Exeunt.) 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT II 

SCENE I. A room in the house of Pelopidas. 
(Enter Sibylla, leading the boy Hylas, and followed by 
a Female Slave.) 

SIBYLLA 

Go, — get thee hence, and let me hear no more. 
Go, go! — The gods desert me! — Hence, I say. 
I will not see him. 

(Exit Slave.) 

HYL. 

Mother! 

SIB. 

My loved boy ! 

HYL. 

Mother, you weep ! 

SIB. 

Why, dost thou think, poor mouse, 
There are no sorrows but for childhood ? none 
Beyond the schoolbook and the pedagogue? 

HYL. 

No mother: for my teacher says, that sorrow 
Haunts man's possessions all, except his grave. 

200 



PELOPIDAS 201 

But when I weep, it is not long; for some one, 
That loves me, comes and comforts me. 

SIB. 

And who 
Have / to love me and to comfort me ? 
Poor prattling boy, thou art the only one 
Of the bright many that once thronged around me. 

HYL. 

Oh, but my father will come back! 



Forbid! 



SIB. 

The gods 

HYL. 

Do you not love him, mother? 

SIB. 

Thou shouldst be whipped, thou magpie, for that 
question. 

HYL. 

I love him, mother, and I wish him back! 

SIB. 

And I, who love him with a flame that scorches 
The thought of self out of my heart, and limits 
Life to the measure of his dear affection, 
Wish him a thousand miles away from Thebes, — 
Ay, a whole million, so I were but with him! 
Sirrah, dost thou not know, these knavish princes, 
These Spartan governors, would kill him ? They 



202 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Who have set a price upon his head, as on 
The meanest felon's, and decreed it death 
To any hind that in his cot receives him ! 
No ! the heavens witness, the mere thought that he, 
Moved by a rash and restless enterprise, 
Should approach Thebes, his most unhappy city, 
Affrights me. Better, better thus to know him, 
A houseless, friendless, childless, wifeless exile, 
Than see him dead ! 

HYL. 

But, mother, if you love him, 
You will go to Athens; and, if you love me, 
You will take me with you : — I should be so happy ! 

SIB. 

Happy indeed, thou prattler! But these Spartans,- 
These bandogs that have driven out the shepherds, 
And turned upon the flock, — will have none happy 
Under their rule : no, they will not permit 
Even a poor child and mother to be happy. 

HYL. 

Are they all cruel, mother? 

SIB. 

All, my babe. 

HYL. 

I thought my lord Leontidas was not. 

I think he loves me, mother! For, this morning, 

He said that I should be a soldier, with 

A horse and spear — Think of that, mother! — And 

He gave me this brave dagger. — 



PELOPIDAS 203 

SIB. 

Cast it away! 
Put thy foot on it — Thy hand is yet too weak 
To use it on the giver! 

HYL. 

Mother? 

SIB. 

Never 
Again take gift from him. 

HYL. 

I will not, mother. — 
But he spoke kindly. 

{Enter Leontidas, behind.) 

SIB. 

Oh, I doubt not— Kindly! 
His kindness is a dulcet death; and, like 
The aerial poison of a Siren's song, 
Consumes the life, while it delights the sense. 
He is thy father's bitterest enemy: 
And thou must hate him, — ay, and pray the gods 
Knit thy young limbs into precocious strength, 
That thou may'st kill him. 

HYL. 

Kill him, mother? 
See, he smiles on us! 

SIB. 

He! Where?— Ah!— Ye gods, 
Pity me and protect me! — This is well, 
And courteous, Polemarch ! Does the tyranny 



204 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Of your brave rule invade even the retirement 
Of a poor matron's household ? 

LEON. 

When it hatches 
Treason. — Dame, thou hast eloquence enough 
To turn the brains of half our citizens: 
And what I have heard, — this musical adjuration, 
Which schools a child to be my enemy, — 
Makes myself almost turn against myself, 
Leontidas detest Leontidas. — 
My pretty young soldier, thou dost hate me now ? 



Yes, I do hate thee. 



HYL. 



LEON. 



That's my little Greek. 
And, for thy ready obedience to thy mother, 
Run to the court, and tell my Thracian groom 
He must let thee ride upon a tall, brave horse. 

HYL. 

Mother! 

SIB. 

Stir not. What, wilt thou let the honey 
Of a stranger's charming tongue befool thee ever? 

LEON. 

You are cruel, lady, — and not only to me 
Whose love should claim a lovelier recompense; 
To your fair self, whom 'tis unnatural 



PELOPIDAS 205 

For your fair self to wrong; but to this boy, 

Whom you breed up to sorrow. You do condemn him 

To an anticipated, bloody death, 

In the wild counsels you so rashly give him : 

And teaching him thus to reject my favour, 

You rob him of a friend, who has the power 

To advance his fortunes. 

SIB. 

He shall have no advancement 
That thou canst give him, Polemarch. The son 
Of the most noble of Boeotian patriots 
Shall take no favours of Boeotian tyrants. 

LEON. 

Now is this woman's prattle! Patriots, tyrants! — 
As if the restless beggar that would mount, 
Yet cannot, were a nobler spirit than he 
That has clomb to power already ! 

SIB. 

Mak'st thou the patriot 
So poor a thing? Is there no charm in virtue? 
No merit in the love of country ? 

LEON. 

Ay: 

But what have virtue and the love of country 
To do with patriots? Such things may have been, 
F th' golden ages: but, now, they are the fictions, 
Wherewith th' ambitious fight their way to rule, 
And gull the freeborn slaves, their helpers-on. 
Virtue! Why virtue sits at home, apart 



206 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

From the great world, and its great villanies; 

And so doth freedom, which is only free 

Where one sole man inhabits. The love of country 

Is but another name for love of that 

Wherewith our country can enrich us, — wealth, 

Dignity, power, — the great divinities 

Which all men worship, and their only virtues. 

He that seeks these things is the patriot; 

And he that has them, and from the seeker keeps them, 

Tyrant — or so your patriot calls him. 

SIB. 

Alas! 
If there be, then, no patriot, what is he 
That bleeds, — nay, dies too, — for his country? 

LEON. 

A soldier, 
That seeks the shortest road to power, and wins it 
By th' stupid shedding of some drops of blood; 
When great minds, greatly toiling, lose the prize : 
But yet not always wins it. Dost thou believe, 
Pelopidas, this manikin's sire, — my rival 
Of old, as now, — went forth to Mantinea 
To die for naught, — or for his country? 



For 



SIB. 

His country, — for naught else ! 

LEON. 

By Mercury, 
He won the prize though! Scarce were his wounds 
well healed, 






PELOPIDAS 207 

When, rising from his sick-couch, he besought 
The people, — the dear people, — in whose cause 
He had bled, for the great post of Bceotarch, 
(That office for which / so long had toiled,) 
And the dear people gave it. 

SIB. 

And they never 
Chose a more noble governor ! 

LEON. 

Or lost 
A more deserving one. From that moment, dame, 
I, a good patriot then, because in want 
Of all my foe had gained, swore, the dear people 
Should ne'er choose other governor; — and they shall 

not. 
Ne'er shall my rival look again to mount, 
The chair of rule, — that chair which may be soon 
Higher and nobler, — a royal one, a throne 
Holding a king; the while my patriot rival 
Wanders, a baffled exile, through the world. 

SIB. 

Let it be so; be thou a king, Pelopidas 
A baffled exile: use but thy clemency, — 
Discharge me from thy court, that I may follow 
My baffled exile in his wanderings. 

LEON. 

Thou shalt remain to share my fate, — to rail, 
To scold, to tyrannize, yet be my queen. 



208 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SIB. 

Never! Wert thou upon Olympus' top, 

Throned in the state of Jove, and my poor husband 

Chained, like a Helot, in his den below, 

I should not choose, I could not choose, a moment 

Betwixt the two, — the noblest and the basest. 

LEON. 

Hah ! you are mad ! 

SIB. 

Discharge me ; 
Give me to go: and, if 'twill move thee, know, 
I hate thee, tyrant, — hate thee and despise thee ! 

LEON. 

This is a frenzy in you. Though your boldness 
May trifle with my passion, yet beware 
My anger. 

SIB. 

Oh, my fate! 

LEON. 

A scorned affection 
Withers at last to spiteful hate; a love, 
Leavened by constant insult, turns to gall. 
Love I have offered thee, such as would make thee 
The partner of a throne, mistress of power, 
And pomp, and pleasure, beyond all other women. 
Beware the change thine own wild words provoke, 
The fury that may crush thee, — ay, and all 
Thou lovest. 



PELOPIDAS 209 

HYL. 



Mother ! 



SIB. 



Manikin, how now? 
No tears! — Why this is well! — rare gallantry! 
New courtship! A weak, silly woman's whims, — 
And perhaps coyness, — must be frighted from her! 
Thou scorn'st the soft and delicate persuasion, 
The tender and submissive oratory, 
Which common lovers put upon their tongues ; 
Wouldst win by talking of thy hate and fury ! — 
My boy! — A rare, fine wooing! a new courtship! 

LEON. 

Lady, you jest? 

SIB. 

Oh, no — My boy, my boy! — 
What, fright me into kindness! 

LEON. 

I pr'ythee, pardon 
If my rough tyranny have drawn those tears, 
I pray you, pardon me. Your beauty drives me 
Into a mood of folly, which your sarcasms 
Sting into frenzy — Why do you stir me thus ? 
Would you but smile a little, howe'er you railed, 
No slave should be more gentle and submissive. 

SIB. 

My boy, too! threat my boy? my innocent boy, 
That has not malice, yet, to harm a reptile. 
14 



210 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LEON. 

These were vain words: and, well thou know'st, 

Sibylla, 
Thy favour is a refuge and protection 
Safe as an altar. 

sib. (To Hylas.) 
Sirrah, will you go study? 



LEON. 



Stay, lady. 



SIB. 

Oh, my lord, I thought you were bent 
To win my kindness? 

LEON. 

With my best of service ! 

SIB. 

To-night I would be with my child alone. — 
Oh, my good lord, you know not woman's nature: 
Our humours are the ladders to our heart ; 
And he who would climb into its richest seats, 
Must step them gently, one by one. 

LEON. 

I'll please you; 
And dream I am one step nearer to your love. 

(Exit.) 

SIB. 

Slave! — that my fate should bind me to dissemble 
A moment with a wretch so scorned as thou ! 

(Exit with Hylas.) 



PELOPIDAS 211 

SCENE II. A room in Philidas's house. {Enter 
Philidas and a Slave.) 

PHIL. 

All finished? all complete? the tables spread 
With viands costly and luxurious ? 
The couches cushioned with rich robes ? the torches 
Lighted? ('Tis brave!) the dancers and musicians 
Already come? and (hark ye, did ye mark?) 
Close barred the casements, — to shut out the cries 
Of the disorderly base rabble? (Alack ! 
And to shut in some others !) 

{Enter a second Slave.) 

PHIL. 

What ! how now ? 
Come they, my princely masters and my guests? 

2D SLAVE 

A peasant — and a huntsman, as he says, 

With a present of game, a fat hind and wild boar — 

Craves to speak with you. 

PHIL. 

Out upon the boor! 
Take him among you, and let him feed and sleep. 
I'll see him on the morrow. {Exit 2D slave.) Where 

bides my nephew, 
My petulant, wilful kinsman? 

1ST SLAVE 

Good my master, 
He hath ta'en horse, and ridden I know not whither. 



212 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHIL. 

What ! i' the storm ? The madcap ! — Pray the gods, 
He quickly meet them ! — Why, this feast would feed 
Five hundred starving Thebans ! — 

(Re-enter 2D slave.) 

PHIL. 

What, again? 

2D SLAVE 

The huntsman, may it please you, — 

PHIL. 

Out, the knave ! 
What want I with huntsmen ? — 

2D SLAVE 

Says he has brought with him 
Twelve hounds — 

PHIL. 

Twelve villains! What would I with hounds? 
(Aside.) Unless they were bloodhounds of a kind I 
dream of ! 

2D SLAVE 

He says, you will like these, master; for they are 
Of the true old Cadmean breed. 

PHIL. 

Hah! what? 
Of the Cadmean breed ? Twelve hounds ! 

2D SLAVE 

And trained 
To hunt all manner of beasts. 



PELOPIDAS 213 

PHIL. 

Bring him before me. 
{Exit 2D SLAVE.) 

PHIL. 

Get you to the kitchen, sirrah, and see the dancers 
And harpers well bestowed. {Exit ist Slave.) Twelve 

hounds? Twelve hounds? 
Of the Cadmean stock, — and trained to hunt 
All manner of beasts! That has a meaning in it. — 
{Enter Pelopidas, disguised as before, with 2D slave.) 

PHIL. 

Get you away ; seek out my nephew Melon : 

I have occasion for him. {Exit 2D slave.) — Are you 

mad? 
Speak not above your breath. You have enter' d into 
The tiger's den; and the least syllable 
Of your known voice would rouse more fear and fury 
Than a loud trumpet. 

PELOP. 

You have sharp eyes, Philidas? 

PHIL. 

For heaven's sake, go. A moment, and the tyrants, 
The Polemarchs, are with us. 

PELOP. 

Am not I 
Also a guest? I come to sup with them, — 
I and some others that they wot not of. 
I pray you, moderate your fears : if you 
Stand safely in their favours, all is well. 



2i 4 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHIL. 

And if they see you ? 

PELOP. 

Well, they will see naught 
But a poor abject clod, a grovelling peasant. 
They see not with your eyes : and I have had proof, 
Even at your doors, that my disguise conceals me. 
That varlet, Kalon, he that has dwelt years 
Among my household, — he that let me in, 
And spake with me, — he did not know me. Where- 
fore 
Content ye; and advise me why ye sent not 
An answer to my messenger? 

PHIL. 

A messenger! 

PELOP. 

That moment I a hint received of this 

Your festival, I sent ye word again 

I should be with you. The knave was trusty, too : 

This must be looked to. 

PHIL. 

But your twelve hounds, — twelve friends! 
Brought ye no more? 

PELOP. 

They have all sworn to die, 
Or free their country, — and they are enough. 
Send for them at the Delian Gate : they lie 
Among the rocks beneath the wall. 



PELOPIDAS 215 

PHIL. 

The Delian ? 
'Twas at th' Athenian port I looked to find you; 
And there my nephew waits. 

PELOP. 

Well, let him seek them 
At the Delian Gate, where they lie hid : the others, 
Four hundred armed and desperate men are posted, 
(Or will be, soon), upon the Hill of Fortune. 

PHIL. 

It shall be done. — Perhaps, I could explain 
This luckless riddle of the messenger; 
But more delay were dangerous. 

PELOP. 

Are all things 
Ready for midnight? In the street, I saw 
An old man perishing. — But 'tis no matter — 
I thought me of my father ! 

PHIL. 

These things are common. 

PELOP. 

Common! Yes, — common, where Tyranny hath 

planted 
Her iron foot, and men permit to trample. 
Alas, my Philidas ! is not many unworthy 
The gift of freedom ? I ask myself, Wherefore 
Is Thebes enslaved? There are a million men, 



216 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Whom three men tread upon, rob, scourge, and 

murder, — 
Do what they will with ; and the million sit 
Passive and cowering, as if 'twere gods that ruled 

them, 
Not men, — infernal deities, whom neither 
Fire nor steel can harm, not perishing creatures, 
Whom wasps might sting to death, or a mere schoolboy 
Slay with an arrow! 

PHIL. 

This is the stupor ever 
Of bondage, — and ill the gods inflict, to punish 
Our wickedness, and, in that stupor only, 
Make it endurable or possible. 
When heaven relents, the slumber ends, and men 
Start up their own avengers. — But now, I pray you, 
Bethink you of your danger, and depart. 
Proceed to Charon's house; whereto your followers 
Shall be conducted. 

PELOP. 

To Charon's? 
I have a thing here — I had thought to quell it; 
But 'twill not— Philidas!— 

(Distant trumpets heard.) 

PHIL. 

Hark! the Polemarchs! 
It is the trumpets of their guards, their Spartans! 

PELOP. 

Were they posted round your doors, I have a question, 
Which must be answered ere I leave you. 



PELOPIDAS 217 

PHIL. 

Speak it. 

PELOP. 

I have a wife here, Philidas — What ! shrink you ? 

The weakness of my nature, (I confess it: 

My heart yearned like a girl's, when I bethought me 

Of her, long left deserted and in peril:) — 

This weakness led me even to the door 

Of my retired mansion ; where, instead 

Of an obscure and quiet solitude, 

Such as should in a matron's house prevail, 

I found the casements flashing with the light 

Of flambeaux, and the halls reechoing 

With songs and revelry. It chilled my heart 

What means it, Philidas? 

PHIL. 

Now shame upon you! 
At such a time, to think of aught — 



PELOP. 



What means it, Philidas ? 



I say, 



PULL. 



Fy, fy! perhaps 
She hath invited friends. Our goodly dames 
Must have their pleasures, even the while their hus- 
bands 
For them their rich lives are adventuring. 
Pr'ythee, away now; and believe there's nothing 
Evil in what thou'st seen. 



218 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Believe! believe! 
Nothing of evil! What thou knowest, Philidas, 
Though it were such an evil as would crush 
My heart to dust, and, for the laurel crown, 
Cover my head with shame, advise me of it. 
I will not stir, till thou hast told me all. 

PHIL. 

Repress your indignation then. Leontidas — 

PELOP. 

Leontidas ! — I ask you of my wife, 
Of my Sibylla : speak to me of her. 

PHIL. 

First; then, your house, confiscate long ago, 
Is now the palace of Leontidas. 

PELOP. 

Well! 

PHIL. 

But you tremble? 

PELOP. 

Go on — My house, 
The palace of Leontidas! 

PHIL. 

Wherein 
His parasites, — those meaner ones that are 
From my high feast excluded, — hold, perhaps, 
A revel of their own. 



PELOPIDAS 219 

PELOP. 

Why, this is well, — 
Well, well! but nothing of my wife! Has he, 
This Thebes-born Spartan, the renegade, through 

whom 
Sparta wrought out our ruin, — has he, then, 
Driven her forth, — her and her little infant? 

PHIL. 

Not so : they are both still in the house, — detained, 
I am sure, unwilling. 

PELOP. 

What! ha, ha! unwilling? 
Come, you mete out your niggard words as if 
They were life-drops from your heart. — They are 

enamoured ! 
Is it not so? — Women are fickle, Philidas! 

PHIL. 

This is the rumour. — 

PELOP. 

I will kill her, Philidas! 

PHIL. 

You rave! It is but rumour. 

PELOP. 

What! to fright me, 
With the palsying grasp of a domestic shame, 
From the bright pathway of eternal honour! 



220 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



PHIL. 



I'll stake my life upon Sibylla's faith. 
How can she hinder, if the Polemarch 
Will choose to love, or to imprison her? 



PELOP. 



Love her! The gods confound him — I will grind him 
To atoms ! tear him to pieces ! 



PHIL. 

Why so thou shouldst. 
Such wrong should move thee faster in thy purpose, 
And stir thee onwards to a great revenge. 

PELOP. 

Revenge ! Thou dost not know me, Philidas. 
I would have sacrificed him to my country ! 
This sinks my virtue into personal fury, 
And makes the deed my vengeance, not my country's ! 
(Trumpets and music.) 

PHIL. 

I do beseech you, go — And yet, I fear, 
It is too late. — Hark ! they are at the gates ! 
Banish these angry wrinkles from your brow : 
Assume humility; and, for the love 
Of our brave friends, and for our country's weal, 
Which you have perilled by this rashness, speak not : 
Of, if impelled by questioning, remember 
You are here a peasant, — not Pelopidas. 
Give me your spear; it will but wake suspicion. — 
(He casts the spear away. Music.) 



PELOPIDAS 221 

{Enter Archias, and Philip, with other Guests, and 
Attendants.) 

Health, honour, and welcome to my noble princes! 

ARCH. 

Our trusty Secretary! — {To Philip.) Well! I tell thee, 
These portents, that alarm the ignorant vulgar, 
Philosophers laugh at : tell them not to me. 

PELOP. 

{Apart to Philidas.) Philidas! 

PHIL. 

Peace ! 

PELOP. 

Where didst thou hide my spear? 

PHIL. 

Where't shall not serve thy madness. — 

PHILIP 

But the vision 
Seen with mine own eyes? 

ARCH. 

Why, it was a vision 
Seen with thine eyes, then, — but thine eyes turned 

inward 
Upon thy frighted fancies. Fy ! I tell thee, 
Thou wilt be laughed at. 



222 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHIL. 

Peace! {Aloud.) What says my prince? 

ARCH. 

Our brother Philip hath'been pleased to see, 
Just now, some terrible phantom at the doors 
Of that arch-knave, Pelopidas. 

PHILIP 

Deride me 
Much as thou wilt; but, Archias, as I live, 
I tell thee truly : I was passing out, 
After some counsel with Leontidas; 
And saw, among the shadows of the portal, 
A gloomy shape that raised its hand, and pointed 
Unto the house with menacing gesture, and — 
Nay, I remember now, it did not speak: 
But the light of the flambeaux falling on it, 
Revealed — 

PELOP. 

What? 

PHILIP 

Hah ! What ho, the guard ! 

ARCH. 

How now? 
What is this fellow ? And wherefore dost thou fear him ? 

PHIL. 

(Apart to Pelopidas.) Madman! 



PELOPIDAS 223 



PHILIP 



By Jupiter, two stars, two comets, 
Are not more like than were that shape and this ! 
Who art thou? 



PELOP. 



A poor peasant, good my prince, — 

A wolf hunter. I pray your highness pardon, 

If that my ignorant folly did alarm you. 



PHILIP 

Fellow, it was not thou. This thing I saw, 
Though like thyself attired, did bear it nobly : 
Ay ! and methought its frowning face resembled 
The aspect of Pelopidas! 

PELOP. 

Oh, my lord, 
I am no traitor; yet, forsooth, 'twas I. 
I did but wonder, when I thought how much 
The gods did smile on some, who thus reposed 
In golden palaces; while others, wretches 
Like me, were shivering in the houseless air, 
And hissed at by their fates, as by the tempests. 

PHILIP 

But thou didst frown! 

PELOP. 

Ay, sooth, — and cursed too,- 
To think how, like a cur, they drove me forth, 
When I did beg to warm me at their fires, 
And pray for bread of their rough menials. 



224 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Alack ! I did forget that him the gods 
Frown on, man frowns on too, adding his scorn 
To the sharp scourges of adversity; 
I did forget I was a poor, base hind, 
And they too rich and great to pity me. 
Yes, I did curse them ! 

ARCH. 

And for that, thou knave, 
Thou shouldst be punished. Learn to be humble, 

sirrah. — 
Whence comes this caitiff? and what doth he here? 

PHIL. 

A hunter from the mountains, good my prince, — 

A poor rude fellow, that would take service with me, 

Being weary of his calling. 

ARCH. 

Let him be looked to; — 
Dost thou observe ? — For, though so rude and brutish 
In his appearance, there's a dangerous cunning 
Lurks in his eye, and mutters on his tongue: 
Even peasants, sometimes, play the patriot! 
Let him be looked to: I, upon the morrow, 
Will sound him further. But no more business 
To-night, which must be all given up to pleasure. 
So end all visions, Philip! Come, — to the banquet! 
(Exeunt, with music, all but Philidas and Pelopidas.) 

PELOP. 

(Gazing after Archias.) To-morrow, fool! there's not a 

cur in Thebes 
Shall think thy bones too noble to be gnawn! — 



PELOPIDAS 225 

Peace, Philidas ! thou wilt call me rash and mad : 

I could not stand before them face to face, 

These things of clay that sit i' th' seats of Heaven, 

Holding the reins of rule, yet, all the while, 

Base as the things they rule, — these pitiful wretches 

(For, sure, they are pitiful,) that hold in bonds 

A gallant people, — a warlike, freeborn people, — 

Without being moved to passion. And such men 

All Thebes cries Masters to! Well, be it so: 

There are Thebans yet to bring them to the reckoning ! 

PHIL. 

I pray you now, 

Go, and be wiser; and, as you shall answer 
For all the lives that hang upon your prudence, 
Go not near your own house. 

PELOP. 

What, Philidas! 
Thou should'st not then have said it ! — But, I pr'ythee, 
See that my friends be housed with noble Charon. 
And, if thou canst, ply well the guards with wine: 
Let them drink deep. 

PHIL. 

It shall be done, and well too. 
I have hopes they will prefer my nephew Melon 
To be the Captain of the Guard. And, hearken: — 
They have commanded I should grace the feast 
With guests ne'er seen at such a festival, — 
The loveliest and most noble maids of Thebes; 
Whom Archias, too, would have (as if their presence 
Were not enough of shame, ) come garbed for pleasure 
In the Bacchante robe and coronal, 
is 



226 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Enough ; their own device instructs us. This will pass 

us 
Through their besotted warders. — But beneath 
Each flowery crown shall lurk a stinging adder, 
Under each robe a death. — Away, and lull them. 
Act thy part well, and think of us at midnight ! 

{Exeunt.) 

END OF ACT II. 



ACT III 

SCENE I. A room in Charon's house. (Enter 
Charon, Melon, Damoclides, and the other exiles.) 

CHARON 

Enter, brave friends ! It warms my heart to see you, 
To know, in these base days of bonds, there are 
Some Greeks yet that will sell themselves to death, 
Rather than slavery. But where, I pray you, 
Is our heart's hope, Pelopidas? 

DAM. 

Nay, where? 
Sought he not you ? He did advance before us, 
To try the perilous entrance of the city. 

LAON 

Perhaps with Philidas? 

CHAR. 

Nay, the gods forbid ! 
He haps there on the tyrants. 

LAON 

Would my dagger 
Were at the throat o' th' messenger, that brought us 

227 



228 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

To this confusion! — Where, then, should he be? 
It may be, with Sibylla? 

MEL. 

That were madder 
Than being with mine uncle : he there falls 
Into the clutches of Leontidas. 

LAON 

By heaven! he bad us, each man on his truth, 
Look not on wife or child, till he could bear them 
The gift of freedom. 'Twas a wise man's charge. 
Yet, well we know, his strong heart beats the woman 
When one salutes it with Sibylla's name. 

CHAR. 

It is not possible he who saw the pit, 

And warned his friends, should be the first to fall. 

This were so rash a step, so full of peril 

To our great enterprise, so full of shame, too, 

To him that takes it, and of wrong to those 

That are leagued with him — no! I'll ne'er believe it. 

It were, indeed, a madness: for Leontidas, 

Our forsworn countryman, has craft and wit 

Beyond his colleagues: to come near him were 

To be discovered and so ruined. Tarry 

Awhile; and all will yet go well. Thou, Melon, 

Away to Philidas, and him acquaint 

With this our misadventure. As for us, 

Though leaderless, yet are we strong enough 

To strike the blow we aim at. — Friends, go in, 

And fit yourselves with weapons and disguises. 

(Exeunt.) 



PELOPIDAS 229 

SCENE II. A banquetting room in Philidas's 
house. Archias, Philidas, and the Guests discovered 
on couches, with tables set out, attended . The storm, 
at intervals, heard without. 

ARCH. 

Raves the storm yet? Why then, 'tis like, those fair 

ones 
Will never grace the banquet ? 

PHIL. 

On my head be it: 
Nor frost nor storm shall keep them from the board, 
When the hour comes for their appointed visit. 
Will you have music now ? Our gentle harpers, 
Lamprus and Dionysius, still can draw 
A smile of rapture out of melancholy; 
And the soft flutings of Olympiodorus 
Breathe like sweet zephyrs through Elysium. 
Or, lo, these playing, an invisible choir, 
The nimble dancers shall amuse my prince, — 
Those airy spirits, who, in grace, outvie 
The wanton Dryads, whom they imitate, 
Skipping, as eve and Dian call them up, 
Through the green alleys of a haunted wood. 

{Enter, as Wood-nymphs, Female Dancers, who dance to 
music of flutes and other instruments.) 

ARCH. 

Such were the Nymphs o' th' Wood; of whom 'twas 

fabled 
Their beauty struck the wandering gazer mad. 
Give me, my Philidas, for nymphs so baleful, 



230 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Those human Dryads, daughters of men, whose 

charms 
Delight, not madden, — inflame the brain to joy, 
Not fire to frenzy. — 

(Here a great shout is heard from the street, which arrests 
the dance and music.) 

ARCH. 

Hark ! what sound is that ? 
{Enter Melon.) 
What means this clamour? 

MEL. 

Good my prince, a folly 
Of the poor rabble, — the grim and hungry rogues, 
That pause i' th' street to catch the sounds of revel, 
And the cold bits thrown to them. 

ARCH. 

But the cause 
Of the great outcry ? 

MEL. 

'Twas the sudden parting 
Of the dark clouds; through which, all beauteously, 
Shone the bright stars that Thebans love the best, 
The Orionides. 

ARCH. 

What were they ? 

PHIL. 

Two virgins 
Of the old ages, good my prince, — the daughters 
Of our great Titan ancestor, Orion, — 



PELOPIDAS 231 

Who, when a pestilence afflicted Thebes, 

And naught but such high sacrifice could stay it, 

Gave up their lives to save their countrymen. 

For this brave act of piety, the gods 

Set them in heaven, star-throned; where now they 

shine, 
Orbs of our Theban destinies. 

ARCH. 

It is 

Another omen then! and the curs dream 
They see the genius of their freedom shining ! 
This were rare food for Philip; who is, already, 
By signs and portents, set beside himself. — 
{Enter Philip.) 

PHILIP 

Break up the feast! give o'er these follies, Archias; — 
Danger's afoot. 

ARCH. 

Said I not so ! — A plot 
Hatched in the skies, by th' stars? Why this, already, 
We have discovered. Fy, man! Sit you down, 
Enjoy the feast, and think no more of portents. 

PHILIP 

'Tis not of portents, Archias, that I speak. 
Strangers are in the city ! 

ARCH. 

Well! and when 
Are strangers not ? Shall such things terrify thee ? 



232 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHILIP 

They came by night, and through a gate unguarded: 
Is not that worth inquiry ? 

ARCH. 

Well, to-morrow 
It shall be look'd to. — And, that the gates may be 
No longer left unguarded, we will place 
A trustier captain o'er the watch. Thou, Melon, 
(For thus we show our love for thy good kinsman,) 
Art now our officer. 
(He gives a sword to Melon, who kneels to receive it.) 
Punish those knaves 
That have their posts deserted, and their places 
Supply with better men. 



Your highness' slave 



Already entered ? 



MEL. 

I am for ever 

(Exit.) 

PHILIP 

But, Archias, — these men 



ARCH. 

Would thou couldst sip a little 
Of hellebore, to lull thy fearful spirit, 
Ever in tumult ! Wilt thou mar the feast ? 
Poison our joys? recall us back to toil, — 
To the dry drudgery of magistracy ? 
Because, forsooth, strangers are in the city! — 
Merchants, perhaps, that travel with their wares; 
Or trafficking boors that come betimes to market ; 
Or thieves, slipped in to rob the citizens. 



PELOPIDAS 233 

PHILIP 

Such are not these. A curious fellow saw them 
Received in Charon's house. 

ARCH. 

I see, thou hast sworn 
To drive me from peace! In Charon's house? — 
What think'st thou, Philidas? 

PHIL. 

Think! — / think, my prince? 
No evil, I hope! Methinks, no dangerous persons 
Durst visit Charon. 

ARCH. 

Why, so think I! But let him 
Be sent for, to explain their character, — 
If Philip will have it so! Or rather, Philip, 
Give this night up to pleasure; and let business 
Wait for the morrow. 

PHILIP 

It shall be looked to now ! 
What if these men should prove conspirators? 
You'll thank me for my terrors. 

(Exit.) 

PHIL. 

(Aside.) Frowning Fates! 
Avert your visages from Thebes ; or turn them 
Upon her tyrants only ! 

ARCH. 

Philidas — 
In faith, thou look'st as much disturbed as Philip! 



234 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



PHIL. 



Alas, my prince! my fear is for your pleasures, 
Thus broken in upon by things of naught. — 
I do not think these men worth apprehension. 

ARCH. 

Nor I, good sooth. — But seest thou, Philidas? 
This is a circumstance of which thy wit 
May make a weapon 'gainst an enemy. 
Stranger by Charon harboured ! — Dost thou mark ? 

PHIL. 

It shall not be forgotten. 

ARCH. 

Why, then, again 
We'll turn to pleasure. Let the tempest rage, 
Let omens thicken, and your Theban stars 
Pierce through the rack : confiding in that planet 
Which rules our own high, happy destinies 
From this hour forth, we'll think of naught but 

pleasure. 
(He takes his place at the table; the music and dance are 
resumed; and the scene closes.) 

SCENE III. A room in the house of Pelopidas. 
(Enter Leontidas, leading Hylas, and followed by a 
Slave.) 

LEON. 

The banquet waits me? — It is naught, without 
Sibylla's presence! — But this beating storm, 
Grows it still on ? will it not end to-night ? 



PELOPIDAS 235 



SLAVE 



I heard a man, who seemed a soothsayer, 
Say to a crowd, that stopped him in the street, 
The storm that lowered o'er Thebes would end at 
midnight. 

LEON. 

The frantic runagates! they have all day vexed 
The town with auguries, and dreadful hints 
Of blood and tumult. But enough of this. — 
How fares old Hippoclus ? 

SLAVE 

Not well content 
With his hard chains and dreary cell. — Good master, 
Methinks his gray hairs might be spared these hard- 
ships ! 

LEON. 

What, sirrah! 

Grow'st thou soft-hearted ? In those iron bonds, 
And that dark prison, he remains a hostage, 
Until Pelopidas be cared for. Wherefore 
Look to him well, and think no more of pity. 

{He waves the slave to retire. Exit Slave.) 
Now, my young soldier, wilt thou go with me? 
Thou shalt see rare, brave sights; fine dancers, — 

singers — 
That shall, with pretty ballads, sing thee asleep, — 
And princes, too — princes with golden crowns, 
And purple vests, — great princes, such as thou 
Shalt be, when thou'rt a man. 



236 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

HYL. 

Are they as great 
As my great father? 

LEON. 

Greater. 

HYL. 

Did they win, then, 
Their wounds at Mantinea? Or have they ever 
Been brought off from the field upon their shields ? 

LEON. 

Never. 

HYL. 

How are they great then ? 

LEON. 

By being masters 
Of your father's country. 

HYL. 

But my mother told me, 
They did not win it fairly, in the fight, 
As great men do. And, oh! she told me, too, 
They ne'er had had it, but that a false traitor, 
A scurvy wicked Theban, for the love 
Of gold, betrayed it to them. 

LEON. 

By black Pluto, 
She has the bitterest tongue! — Hark ye, rogue, — said 

she 
This Theban, this scurvy, wicked fellow, — was I? 



PELOPIDAS 237 

HYL. 

No: but she said, he was the only Theban 
Among the Polemarchs, the others being 
Perfidious Spartans. — I would I were a man, 
To swinge him ! 

LEON. 

Sirrah? 

HYL. 

I'd do it, — and soundly, too. 
Betray his own land unto foreigners! 
Now I'll tell you what I think: My mother told me 
Of a bad man, Prometheus; who, for stealing 
The sun's light out of heaven, was chained on rocks, 
With hungry vultures tearing out his heart, 
For thirty long, long years. Well! such a man 
As sold his country, I would have him tied, 
With thirty thousand vultures round about him, 
Tearing his heart forever and forever. 



Thou fry of venom ! 



LEON. 
HYL. 

What ! you are not angry ? 

LEON. 

Hark ye, ye goose, — your mother told ye that? 

HYL. 

And if she did, she learned it of my father. 



238 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LEON. 

Come, you're a brave bird — Will you go with me? 

HYL. 

I'll ask my mother. 

LEON. 

Pho — think of the music ! 

HYL. 

I'll ask her. — 

LEON. 

And the pictures ! 

HYL. 

Oh! I hope 
She'll let me go. 

LEON. 

The soldiers ! 

HYL. 

Soldiers ? 

LEON. 

Come. 

HYL. 

Soldiers with swords, and shields, and spears, and 

horses ? 
Oh, Jupiter! I'll go. 

(Enter Sibylla.) 



PELOPIDAS 239 

SIB. 

What, sirrah! where will you go? — 
This is not well, Leontidas, thus tempting 
My child with baubles, to seduce him from me. — 
Come, malapert; — to your bed. 

LEON. 

Alas, Sibylla, 
Wilt thou let nothing love me that loves thee? 
I did but tempt him to the festival ; 
Where I would tempt yourself. Relent, fair lady: 
Unbend; throw by this frigid modesty; 
And let me bid thee thither; where thy beauty 
Shall bravelier shine than in this solitude. 
Thou shalt, among the roses, wherewithal 
We canopy our princes, sit the highest : 
The proudest dames of Thebes shall do thee homage, 
And hail thee noblest, as they own thee fairest. 

SIB. 

This is to bid me sit among them, lord, 
Highest in shame ! I thank thee ; but I am 
A prisoner here. 

LEON. 

No prisoner, fair lady. 
Now, by my life, thou shalt be free as air. 

SIB. 

Ay, — to go to the banquet! But where else? 

LEON. 

Where'er thou wilt. 



240 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



Pelopidas ! 



SIB. 

Why then, to Athens! to 

LEON. 



Pho! thou jeer'st me. Think no more 
Of the fall'n traitor; whom to mention stirs me 
To rage. By heaven, I hate thee, whensoe'er 
Thou mind'st me thou art wife of him I hate. 
His wife ? His wife no more ! I do divorce thee ! 
(Have I not power that am a prince of Thebes?) 
Divorce thee from him, free thee from thy vows, 
To wed thee to myself. 

SIB. 

His wife till death! 
Naught else divorces me. 

LEON. 

Well, death shall do it. 
Thou speak'st his doom; and the next news from 

Athens 
Shall bring thee word thou art a wife no longer. (Exit.) 

HYL. 

What said he, mother? 

Shall my great father be his prisoner ? 

SIB. 

His prisoner? No! If that their treacherous arts 
Can reach to Athens, they may murder him. 
The gods protect him ever ! — 

(Enter Pelopidas, as before.) 



PELOPIDAS 241 

SIB. 

What art thou? 
My women there, what ho! 

PELOP. 

Peace ! — will you bring 
The curs upon me ? 

HYL. 

You shan't hurt my mother! 

PELOP. 

Well said, my Hector! — Now, by Mars, you stand 
Staring as at a Gorgon ! 

HYL. 

Tis my father! 

SIB. 

Husband ! — 

PELOP. 

Stay, — let me look thee in the face! — 
There's no dishonour there! by heaven, I read 
Naught, in thy visage, but my wife! my wife, 
True, fond, and honourable! 

SIB. 

Oh, Pelopidas, 
Do I not dream now, in this rapture ? 

PELOP. 

Jove ! 
How the young fledgeling ruffled ! Why, thou chick, 
Thou shalt be spurred and sworded, — ay, and mounted , 

For a young war ! 
16 



242 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SIB. 

Pelopidas ! 

PELOP. 

Marry, how now? 
Does my rough casing scare ye ? 

SIB. 

Fly, I pray you, 
Out of this house. The Polemarch — 

PELOP. 

I know it : 
Leontidas is master here; and I, 
The sometime lord, have, like a prowling thief, 
Into his dwelling stolen. But, I pr'ythee, 
Tell me, how bears he? Does he — Curses on him! 
He dares — I'll tear him piecemeal! — he has dared 
To speak (the slave!) his fulsome passion to you? 
By Hercules! — But I scold. 

SIB. 

Oh, my loved husband, 
Why art thou not content to be known brave, 
But must be rash, too? 

PELOP. 

Why? Because, when nature 
Like to a cunning statuary, cast me 
I' th' mould of manhood, she forgot to make me 
Of marble! — Why, thou hectoring rogue! — My heart 

here 
Engendered vipers; and whene'er I thought 



PELOPIDAS 243 

Of thee, and these curst tyrants, they roused up, 
And stung me. — What, thou knave ! I'll fling thee up, 
Till thou art lodged among the stars! — Sibylla, 
Look at him ! By my faith, I think, in a year, 
I'll clap a helm upon his head, and send him 
To battle. 

SIB. 

Teach him to be wise, Pelopidas. 

PELOP. 

Wise ! Now, by Jupiter, you do remind me 

Of weightier matters than mere fooling. — Tell me, 

How fares my father ? 

SIB. 

Well: but— 

PELOP. 

Say no further : 
I'll ask thee on the morrow. — But this business: 
Where is Leontidas? 

SIB. 

Gone forth but now, — 
I think, to the banquet of the Secretary. 

PELOP. 

Good ! Let them gather ! — Did he anger thee ? 

I know it ! — he call'd thee goddess, and — such knavery I 

SIB. 

And ere he went, with insolent sueing, bade me 
To the feast with him. 



244 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Caitiff!— But I better 
Think on it — He shall have his wish : you shall 
To the feast. 

SIB. 

My lord? 

PELOP. 

To tread upon his neck ! 
As I will. 

SIB. 

What do you mean? What will you do? 

PELOP. 

Kill him! 

SIB. 

Kill him! 

PELOP. 

Are you astonished ? Fy ! I have heard you boast, 
A Theban dame could bear as high a heart 
As ever a Spartan ; and, by Jupiter, 
I thought so too. I held you strong of soul, 
Not apt to shake, like an Arcadian girl, 
And show a face of chalk at words of blood : 
And therefore did I tell you I would kill him, — 
Him and his colleagues, the tyrant-tools of Sparta, 
The morrow's sun shall see them trampled clods, — 
Corses cast out to feed Boeotian ravens. 



PELOPIDAS 245 



SIB. 

Heaven help thee, then: and, for my sake, take care 
Of thy rich life. 

PELOP. 

Thou mean'st, the lives of those 
That are leagued with me ! But thou see'st my folly : 
It had been better could I have forgot thee. 
Well, I will steal out, like a thief, again. 
Farewell, farewell — Hist! 

leontidas {Within.) 

Close the gates. 

SIB. 

O heaven! 
It is Leontidas ! 

PELOP. 

Begone, you rogue! 
Hence, — to your bed, and sleep. 

{Exit Hylas.) 
And I am here 
Without a weapon! — Contradict me, wife; 
In whatsoe'er I speak, do thou gainsay me: 
Do this, (I'll play the faithless emissary:) 
Do it, and save your country, — do it bravely! 
{Enter Leontidas, with Guards.) 

LEON. 

Where is this skulking hind ? this prowling thief, 
That steals i' the house of princes? 



246 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Oh, my prince, pardon! 
I — (Bid him hang me!) — am no thief. 

SIB. 

Save — hang him ! 
A thief and robber ! 
(The Guards seize upon Pelopidas.) 

PELOP. 

Out, alas, for pity! 
Pardon me, mighty prince; I will confess! 

LEON. 

Confess what, fellow? 



A foul conspiracy 



PELOP. 

Oh, my great lord, treason, — 



SIB. 

Do not believe him. 

LEON. 

What treason? Speak, — confess! or in a mortar 
I'll have thee brayed alive. (The Guards here release 
Pelopidas.) 

pelop. 

It shall not need: 
Most merciful prince, I will confess it all. 
Being a poor abject boor, — this matron's husband — 



PELOPIDAS 247 



SIB. 

Most false! Believe him not. — 



PELOP. 

Pelopidas — 



SIB. 

False ! false ! 

LEON . 

What, knave? 

PELOP. 

Did bribe me — 

LEON. 

What to do? 

PELOP. 

To carry, alack ! a most vile, traitorous message 
To his wife here. 

SIB. 

Tis false ! 



LEON. 

Thou shalt have pardon. — 

PELOP. 



And gold, too. 



Gold, my prince? Pelopidas 
Did only promise silver. 



248 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LEON. 

Speak, what was't? 

PELOP. 

Tell her, ('twas thus he spake,) ere many days, 
I'll free her from her durance; and therefore bid her 
Be wise, be confident, be bold, fear nothing. 

LEON. 

Is this thy treason? 

PELOP. 

I fear to speak the worst : — 
Tell her, I come (but when, he said not,) with 
An army of Athenians, that shall end 
The Theban Tyranny. 

LEON. 

Hah! Athenians? 

PELOP. 

I am sorry I did listen to the traitor. 

But being a starving man, (alas! you know not 

How penury drives the wretched to misdeeds !) 

He bribed me thus to be his messenger. 

Now, if your greatness will but pardon me, 

I'll— 

SIB. 

Do not listen to him; he deceives you. 



PELOPIDAS 249 

LEON. 

Fair dame, forgive me — 'Tis most manifest, — 

A shallow plot. And you will still prefer 

This desperate fugitive, this schoolboy schemer, 

That can no plot frame, but must take his wife 

And servant to his counsels, — him prefer 

To th' rival that his projects laugh to scorn, 

And, with a turn o' th' finger, counteracts them! — 

Fellow, if I forgive thee, and employ thee, 

At such high wages, (See! 'tis gold; enough 

To make thee rich !) canst thou be true and honest ? 

PELOP. 

True as my dog, — and honester ! 



LEON. 



Away to Athens. 



Then shalt thou 



PELOP. 

Blithely! 

LEON. 

And assure 
Pelopidas, as from his wife, (you hear now?) 
His friends in Thebes have raised a numerous party. — 

PELOP. 

Is't true though? 

LEON. 

Who await his coming, 
To strike for freedom. Canst thou swear him this? 



250 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Deeply; — and call the gods to witness it. 

LEON. 

Here's gold for thee. 

PELOP. 

Jupiter ! gold ! gold ! 
I will away to horse right instantly. 

LEON. 

Stay : 'tis a bitter night : the storm will freeze thee. 

PELOP. 

I am too rich to fear't. To-night, my prince! 
I'll be in Athens at the sunrise. 

LEON. 

Nay; 
At sunrise thou shalt go. To-night I'll lodge thee, 
And lodge thee well too, under mine own roof. 

pelop. (Aside.) 
Infernal gods ! 

LEON. 

What ails thee ? 

PELOP. 

I did leave 
In Athens, an old mother, that, but for me, 
Must perish, — miserably perish. Alas! 
For pity now, I pray your excellent highness, 
Bid me set forth to-night. 



PELOPIDAS 251 

LEON. 

Guards, take this fellow; 
(The Guards seize Pelopidas again.) 
Lodge him with the dotard: if he struggle, chain him. 
Knave! I suspect thee; and, methinks, thy visage 
I have seen before? What, sirrah? 



PELOP. 

Have ye no pity, and no piety? 

LEON. 



Oh, ye gods! 



Take him away. Thou fool, that thought'st, with wit 
So poor and shallow, to deceive a prince! 
At sunrise, in the court, thy naked body 
Shall be the target of an hundred archers. 

SIB. 

My lord ! my — 

PELOP. 

Woman! — Well, you'll find me honest, 
Though you suspect me. — Is the lady frighted? — 
But my poor mother, whom I did desert, — 
How she will curse me ! 

LEON. 

Hence with him; confine him. 

PELOP. 

(Apart to Sibylla, as he passes her.) 
Fetch me a dagger ! 

(Exit, gaurded.) 



252 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LEON. 

Now, how poorly looks 
The man thou lov'st, thus baffled, and exposed 
In all his arts and weakness ! 

SIB. 

Pardon, prince, 
For his poor messenger! (Aside.) Alas! — that I 
Could better dissemble! — Spare his life, I pray you: 
He is too mean and poor for your revenge. 
Pity him and discharge him. 

LEON. 

What ! again 
To aid my foe against me ? I did purpose 
To slay the caitiff. But, if you will ransom 
So base a knave, or any hundred such, 
Grant me my boon, and you shall have your will — 
Come to the banquet ! 

SIB. 

Not to save a thousand, 
Though each one were Pelopidas ! 

LEON. 

He dies then. 

SIB. 

Then let him die ! Were it Pelopidas's self, 

Thus would himself command me : Death, with honour, 

Though on the block; not life, with infamy! 

(Exeunt.) 

END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV 

SCENE I. A room in Charon's house. {Enter 
Charon, with Melon, who is in armour, Laon, 
Damoclides, and the other Exiles.) 

LAON 

Inform us truly — was he with thine uncle ? 
Or has he been ? or knows thine uncle of him ? 

MEL. 

By Jove, I cannot say, nor could I learn: 
I could not come to speech with Philidas. 
For know, thou trembling — 

LAON 

Trembling? I can die 
As boldly as my betters. But to be thus 
Lopped of our head and right arm, in our leader, 
Is bat exordium to our general ruin. 

DAM. 

It wants an hour to midnight. 



LAON 

We are bought and sold. 

253 



And ere then 



254 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CHAR. 

How, Laon! 



Are ye stones? 



LAON 

Can ye not see it ? 

DAM. 

What? 

LAON 

We have been decoyed 
Into a net here, by this prating Vulcan ; 
Who hath toiled us, like his crafty prototype, 
In our own loves, — our country being our mistress. 



These are dark words. 



CHAR. 
DAM 

And slanderous! 



LAON 

How comes it, 
He has parted from us, in our hour of peril? 
We were wise, my masters ! to intrust our lives 
In the frail keeping of a man whose fate, 
Up to this hour, so checkered and disastrous, 
Clambers to instant grandeur on our ruin. 

CHAR. 

He'll not betray us? 



PELOPIDAS 255 

DAM. 

Not until the gods 
Confound all good, and make the best the basest. 

LAON 

What matters whether he be false or true ? 
Folly may do the work of perfidy. 
It is enough we are endangered by him. 
And, on no groundless fear of his defection, 
I counsel all, while still the road is open, 
Retreat to Athens. 

DAM. 

And forever after, 
While the world holds together, be recorded 
Its pitifull'st cravens! 

MEL. 

Right, right ! Damoclides. 
And, for the satisfaction of my friend here, 
This man who trembles not, yet counsels trembling, 
Know, you must stay, flight is impossible: 
The gate you found unwatched, is now well manned 
By throngs of Spartan soldiers, for the which 
Thank me. 

CHAR. 

You? 

MEL. 

And the Polemarchs, — who have made me 
Their Captain of the Guard, I thank their worships! 
For, in the execution of mine office, 



256 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

(And to carve out an easier path for you,) 
I from their sacred persons have withdrawn 
Half of their myrmidons. 

LAON 

We are lost then ! 

MEL. 

Lost? 
And still 'tis Laon says it ! Why did ye bring 
This oracle among you? — Hark again! 
Long did I counsel with my wit, to find 
What plausible circumstance would bear me out 
In further diminution of the guard ; 
When, lo, Leontidas, upon some fear, 
(I know not what,) commands me to despatch 
A party to his house; and I have done it. 

CHAR. 

This were most fortunate, were our leader with us. 

MEL. 

It is so still. Our leader's but a man; 

A great and valiant one, in truth; but not 

So necessary to our enterprise, 

We needs must drop it, when his arm is wanting. 

Hark ye: the guards — (my knaves, that watch the 

princes, — ) 
Shall have their cups, and each a drugged cup, too. 
Get ye your swords; and, at the gloom of midnight, 
Steal to mine uncle's house: you shall have entrance. 

LAON 

I like not this. 

(A knocking is heard.) 



PELOPIDAS 257 

CHAR. 

Peace ! 

DAM. 

Hark! 

LAON 

We are betrayed ! 

messenger {Within.) 
V th' name of the Polemarchs, I bid ye open. 

LAON 

Lost! lost! discovered! 

MEL. 

Peace, — and get ye in. 
This pigeon will ruin us. — If you are known, 
Knock 'em o' th' head, and raise the citizens. 
They must not see me here. Get in, I say; 
And, if you must, fight, — and fight bravely. 
{Exit Melon. The others all retire, except Charon, 
who opens the door. Enter Messenger.) 

CHAR. 

What is the matter, that so noisily 
You come into my dwelling? 

mess. 

I am charged 
To bid you, Charon, straight appear before 
The Polemarchs. 

CHAR. 

And wherefore? 



258 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

MESS. 

For the reason, 
You will hear it from themselves. 

CHAR. 

Presently, at the door, 
I will attend you : I will but fetch my cloak, 
And follow you. 

(Exit Messenger.) 
What ho, my son ! Lycophron ! 
My cloak here ! — This disturbs me. — Friends, come 

forth ! 
(Re-enter Damoclides, Laon, and the other Exiles.) 



Are we discover'd? 



Before the tyrants. 



DAM. 
CHAR. 

I know not. I am bidden 

LAON 

By heaven, thou wilt betray us! 



DAM. 

Laon, for shame! 

(Enter the boy Lycophron, with a cloak.) 

CHAR. 

I'll show thee how to punish 
The deed of treachery thy fear imagines. 
I have my son here — look ! the only child 
Of my life's autumn. Take him in your keeping: 
And when you are certain (mark me, Laon, certain,) 
I have betrayed you, — kill him. 



PELOPIDAS 259 

DAM. 

Pardon us, — 
Or rather him, good Charon; since no other 
Doubts your true faith and wisdom. 

CHAR. 

Rest content then. 
Set sentinels at the windows and the doors ; 
And be no truer to yourselves than / am. 

{Exit.) 

DAM. 

Laon, this peevish and suspicious spirit 
Has wronged our friend. 

LAON 

Why have they sent for him ? 

DAM. 

If from suspicion, — 

LAON 

If! — We were all wise 
To trust our necks so madly ! Do you not think, 
The Polemarchs would surely raise to honour 
That man of us who should the rest betray ? 

DAM. 

Unto base honour. Fear'st thou such man among us? 

LAON 

I think that one should seek Pelopidas! 



260 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

DAM. 

Where? 

LAON 

Where my fears report him, — with his wife. 
Will you trust me, in this office? 

DAM. 

Trust you, Laon! 
We are brothers in this enterprise; and each 
Finds in his fellow but a second self. — 
I think, 'tis needless. 

LAON 

I will find you out 
What base we stand on, which now shakes beneath us, 
As if 'twould ope and swallow us. This doubt 
Is worse than danger. I will hence, and fathom 
The riddle of our leader's vanishing. 

DAM. 

Perhaps he is tempting forth the citizens, 

T' invest the citadel: and one imprudence 

Might blast the coming fruit of all his labour. 

What if yourself, by some mischance, should stumble 

Upon an enemy ? 

LAON 

You do not fear me ? 

DAM. 

Fear you? Most surely no. 



PELOPIDAS 261 

LAON 

Then I'll attempt it. 
And, if you doubt me, I will swear — 

DAM. 

You have, 
Already, your spirit pledged to the black Furies, 
If you should fail us in one article 
Of our most solemn covenant. Be but 
Discreet in what you do; we ask no further. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. The banquetting-rooms in Philidas's 
house seen behind, with tables and guests; in front, an 
Ante-room, into which Enter Archias and Philip, 
attended by Philidas. 

ARCH. 

Thou wert fitter for an augur than a prince, — 
A priest of melancholy Proserpine, — 
A servitor of the dim Trophonian cave, 
Where all is night, and mystery, and horror. 
How wretched he whom Fear thus dominates, 
Scourging with every fancy ; who sees a spectre 
In every shadow of the night, or hears it 
Wailing on every wind. 

PHILIP 

More wretched he, 
Buried in pleasure and security, 
Who shuts his sense 'gainst every warning token, 
Wherein the wise may read their destiny. 
I tell thee, Archias, this drowsy ease 



262 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Suits not the time, when dangers lower around us. 
The air is big with them, the city alive 
With hints, and rumours, and whispering expectation, 
That prates of mischief and conspiracy. 
What if these knaves be exiles ? Are we ready 
To meet their rancorous onset ? Are we safe 
Even here, so fondly sitting at the feast ? 
Our new-made officer, upon some whim, 
Has half, — nay, more than half, — the guard with- 
drawn. 

PHIL. 

Please you, my prince, 'twas done upon no whim. 
My lord so willed it, and I did advise it. 

ARCH. 

In faith, 'twas done to please thyself. I sent them 
To guard the gates. And hereby, if an exile 
(As you will have it so,) have crept upon us, 
We have him safe. 

PHILIP 

And then, another party 
Leontidas hath sent for to his house. 
Is there no fear in that ? Leontidas 
Was ever shrewd and wary. 

ARCH. 

Let him fear, — 
And all that will : these bugbears fright not us, 
Nor shall they scowl down our festivities. 
Come these Bacchantes yet? In sooth, my brother, 
They'll toy these horrible fancies from thy brain. 
(Enter the Messenger and Charon: the former retires.) 



PELOPIDAS 263 

And here, to chase the frightfullest away 
Comes our good, honest, faithful Charon. 

PHILIP 

Charon ! 
How haps it, that suspicious men are seen 
Received into your dwelling ? 

PHIL. 

Do you hear? 
High highness asks you, wherefore do you harbour 
Strangers; whom, as we fear — 

PHILIP 

Peace ; let him answer. — 
Upon my life, he changes countenance ! 

CHAR. 

Alas ! I hope there was naught evil in them ! 

ARCH. 

'Tis true, then? Why, there may be evil enough. 
Who and what are they? 

CHAR. 

May it please my prince, 
Poor hinds returned from hunting ; who besought me 
To buy their fortune of the day, — a boar 
And hart o' th' mountains. 

arch. {To Philip.) 

Never tell me more 
Of your redoubted strangers ! 



264 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CHAR. 

Their wild quarries 
I satisfied them for, and so discharged them : — 
Mere boors, my prince. 

ARCH. (To PHILIDAS.) 

Of the same batch, I doubt me, 
As our rough captive ? 

char. (Apart to Phil.) 

Captive ? 

phil. (Apart to Char.) 

Peace! — So let 
The good gods lull them to security. 

Are you ready? — Speak not! At the midnight come. 

CHAR. 

If still my lords suspect these men of evil, 
I'll have them sought for, and examined. 

PHILIP 

Do so: 
There may be more in them than meets the eye : 
Let them be found. — But, stay — Leontidas! 

LEON. 

(Enter Leontidas.) 
Feast on, feast on ; I have good mirth for you ! 

ARCH. 

Why, that is better far than hints and riddles, 
And words of peril, that disturb our revels. 



PELOPIDAS 265 



LEON. 



Yet there is peril in 't, though peril over. 

I have now in my hands a dangerous fellow, — 

A boor, a huntsman — 

ARCH. 

Now, by Hercules! 
Is the world filled with huntsmen ? 

PHILIP 

Treason ! treason ! 

LEON. 

Why, what's the matter, that the word disturbs you? 
A boor, a huntsman — 

PHIL. 

Ay ! a boor, a huntsman ! 



What more, indeed ? 



LEON. 



A secret emissary 
O* th' plotting exiles, whom I found conferring 
With the wife of Pelopidas. 

phil. {Aside.) 

Oh, miserable! 

PHILIP 

A figure tall and sinewy ? 

LEON. 

Ay! 



266 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



And prating villain ? 



ARCH. 

A cunning 

LEON. 

What ! have you seen him ? 

ARCH. 

Hark ye, 
Philidas, man! has he escaped you? 

LEON. 

Hah! 
Why this is rare ! What ! a base peasant stalk, 
From house to house, among the Polemarchs! 

PHILIP 

Is he secured? 

LEON. 

As closely as stone walls, 
Bolts, and armed guards, can bind him. 

phil. (Aside.) 

Rash and wretched! 

PHILIP 

Now can I breathe again, and speak my thought. 
This man, whom, like a phantom, first I saw 
Under the shadowy arch of his own portal — 

LEON. 

What say'st thou? hah! 



PELOPIDAS 267 

PHILIP 

By all the deities, 
When, in the gloom, I saw him, (better noting 
His angry brow than coarse attire,) I thought him 
The spectre of a dead Pelopidas ! 

LEON. 

What ho! more guards! give me more guards! I, too, 
Saw somewhat in his face that woke me up 
Strange recollections. And the anxious fears 
Of his wife too! By Pluto, it is he! 
And in our power! 

ARCH. 

Thou canst not think it he ? 
Hot as he is, this were too mad a feat; 
And ye are mad to think it. 

LEON. 

Give me guards ! 
I'll prove it soon. Philidas! Secretary! 
Send me an officer to the citadel; 
Bring me an hundred men: I'll have no fewer 
To stand in watch upon the prisoner. 
Send for them straight. 

{Exit.) 

PHILIP 

Where went those huntsmen, Charon ? 
They must be found: I do distrust them still. 

ARCH. 

Must thou still rave ? Do traitors bring such traffic, — 
Wild-boars and mountain-harts? 



268 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHILIP 

I'll ne'er be satisfied, 
Till I have found them. 

(Exit.) 

ARCH. 

Now these lunatics 
Are gone, we shall have peace again. But, Philidas, 
How came this man with you? 

PHIL. 

Upon pretext 
Of seeking service — A poor mountaineer, 
As I must needs still think him : perhaps a spy, 
Sent by the enemy ; but, sure, no exile, 
Nor man of name or note. For his escape, 
I do confess, but lightly fearing him, 
I guarded him but lightly. 

ARCH. 

Well, at least, 
He is safe again. If there be evil in him, 
We soon shall know it. And, therefore, we'll forget 
The rude mishaps, that have our joys disturbed; 
And once more to the broken feast again. 

(He retires into the banquetting-room.) 

phil. (Apart to Charon.) 

No words! 
His madness has undone us. We must strike 
Instantly now, or die. Get cloaks and garlands, 
To pass the guards — We may be yet successful. 
(Exit, Charon; Philidas retires into the banquetting- 
room, and the scene closes.) 



PELOPIDAS 269 

SCENE III. A strong room in Pelopidas's house. 
{Enter from a vault , Pelopidas, leading Hippoclus, the 
latter in chains.) 

PELOP. 

Gently; take heed of this same broken step. 
The air is freer here. What ! did they keep thee 
In that damp vault, — an old man such as thou? 
And chained too? 

HIPP. 

Good young man, who art thou, 
That speak'st such kindness to old Hippoclus? 

PELOP. 

I ? who am I? These hardships — But no matter. 
I am a prisoner, like yourself; and, looking 
For ways of flight, I drew the bolt which led me 
Into your dungeon. 

HIPP. 

Then you are a foeman 
O' th' Polemarchs? a Theban patriot. 

PELOP. 

Ay.- 
Do you not know me? Look! — here, in the light! 

HIPP. 

Alas, mine eyes are sightless. 

PELOP. 

Hah! 



270 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

HIPP. 

Imprisonment 
F th' sickly cell, and failing age, and sorrow — 

PELOP. 

Gods ! and he still did chain you ? — O my father ! 

HIPP. 

Methinks thy voice is like my son's: but he — 
Yes! he was banished by the Polemarchs. 

PELOP. 

Father ! my father ! will you not now know me ? 

HIPP. 

Art thou Pelopidas, and a prisoner? 
Thy tones are his: but the first vow I taught him, 
(Bravely he swore it, too,) was ne'er to yield him, — 
To die i' th' field, ne'er live a prisoner! 

PELOP. 

I swore 't, and I have broke it. — But they took me 
Unarmed. 

HIPP. 

Away, false slave! thou art not he. 
Pelopidas among his foes unarmed ! 

PELOP. 

Father! 

HIPP. 

Unarmed? Thou slander'st him. My son 
Sleeps with a sharpened dagger in his hand, 



PELOPIDAS 271 

Eats with it in the dish, and, at the altar, 
Prays with it in his bosom, — and so will do, 
Long as a tyrant lives in Thebes. 

PELOP. 

You wring 

My heart! 

HIPP. 

If thou beest, then, Pelopidas, how art thou 
In Thebes a prisoner ? 

PELOP. 

I came to free it. 
HIPP. 

And art a captive? Go! Pelopidas 

Was not more valiant-souled than he was wise. 

PELOP. 

Still am I he; and can such proofs discover 

As will your doubtings change to curses. I 

Am he, whom, foolishly, my fellow patriots 

(The only Thebans left to strike for Thebes,) 

Chose for their leader. And this post of honour, 

Diademed round with glory, like a boy, 

An idiot rustic, I have thrown away. 

Nor that alone: I have destroyed my friends, 

And slain my country: they, upon the block, 

Whither myself have dragged them, bleed; and Thebes 

Robbed of her sons, remains a slave forever! 

HIPP. 

Art thou Pelopidas, and hast done this? 



272 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Curst be the tongue, that, with foul slander, stung me 
Into the madness that has done the wrong ! 
Or curst the weakness of my own vile nature, 
Which thus could list to folly ! For my wife, 
I have sold my country ! 

HIPP. 

May the gods forgive you. 

PELOP. 

They will not, — cannot: when did Heaven e'er pardon 
The slayer of his country ? — a traitor, whether 
The act be done in malice or in folly. — 
Hark! 'twas a step! — Alas! no step, — no hope! 
Time flies — flies fast ; and I am still a captive. 
Until this hour, I hoped some chance to free me ; 
When I had well redeemed my forfeit honour. 
But it is midnight, — midnight that should have seen me 
Hurling the tyrants from their thrones — 



HIPP. 

My jailer. 

PELOP. 

Ha, ha ! the gods be thanked ! 

HIPP. 



Hark! hark! 



What mean'st thou? 



PELOP. 

I'll slay him, — snatch his weapons, and so cut 
My way to freedom! — Stand aside, and fear not. 
(Enter Sibylla.) 



PELOPIDAS 273 

By heaven, Sibylla! — Didst thou bring the dagger? 
Quick! give it me — Why doest thou shake thus? — 

Father! 
I will retrieve mine honour. 

SIB. 

Stay! 

PELOP. 

This weapon 
Makes me a god! ha, ha! — How got ye in? 

SIB. 

I bribed the sentinel. 

PELOP. 

Is there but one ? 

SIB. 

But one man at the door; around the house, 

An hundred: you may see them from the window. 

PELOP. 

It matters not. Armed as I am in spirit 
To wipe dishonour from my front, — to save 
My friends, — to give my country liberty, 
An army should not stop me. — Father, I'll win 
Your blessing ! 

SIB. 

Oh, my husband! my dear husband! 
You will not out, against these odds? 
18 



274 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Ay, truly, 
I will ! Farewell — I cannot talk with thee. 

SIB. 

Thou wilt be slain! 

PELOP. 

Fighting, not caged ! 

SIB. 

O heaven ! 
Stay with me. 

PELOP. 

Peace ! 

SIB. 

You are safe here. Wait until 
The guards are drawn off. 

PELOP. 

Look to my father there. 

SIB. 

Leontidas — 

PELOP. 

Hah! 

SIB. 

My women overheard him 
Plotting to bear me to the citadel. 



PELOPIDAS 275 



PELOP. 

Why dost thou prate thus? Lo! this steel is sharp! — 
I'll be with thee anon. 

SIB. 

Well, heaven be with thee: 
I will not stay thee. Go forth to the battle; 
And if thou diest, die victorious. 

Come back the conqueror, and thy country's saviour; 
Or, like a hero, stretched upon thy shield, 
Dead, yet unvanquished ; and with joy I'll meet thee, 
As though thou earnest a bridegroom to my arms; 
Kiss thy cold lips, and think them lips of love; 
Wipe thy red wounds, and call them nuptial jewels; 
And strow thine honoured corse with flowers and 

wreaths 
Rich as e'er decked a living conqueror — 
With flowers, not tears ! 

PELOP. 

There spoke my noble wife ! 
My Theban wife! Talk thus; and I will fight 
Till Sparta buckles! 

SIB. 

I'll wrap my cloak about thee: — 
(Pelopidas throws off his cloak of skins, and puts on 
Sibylla's mantle.) 

sib. 

Perhaps, thus, thou may'st pass the sentinel, 
And reach the doors in safety. Then — and then — 
Oh gods! 



276 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

And then, Sibylla, 
Like dogs I'll scatter them! And so I bid you 
Be not alarmed; fear naught — What, father! 
Will you not know me now? 

HIPP. 

Go forth and prosper. 
Thou art still my valiant son. 

PELOP. 

Remain with him. 
Be of good heart, and — rear my boy to honour. 

(Exit.) 

HIPP. 

What, is he gone? The great gods go with him! 

SIB. 

Hist! — If the guard should stop him? Hark! My 
father ! 



He will be slain! 



HIPP. 

Fear not. 



SIB. 

Hark! hark! I hear 
The clash of armour! — From this window, I 
May see him — perish ! 

(She looks from the window.) 

Oh ! ye pitying gods, 
He is at the door ! — They rush upon him ! — See ! 
They strike him! Help him, Jupiter, with thunder! 
Ah ! heaven ! — 



PELOPIDAS 277 

HIPP. 

What see'st thou? 

SIB. 

No! — it was a Spartan, 
Struck to his feet ! — Now ! now ! Pelopidas ! 
Strike! — strike again, and fly! Ha, ha! by heaven, 
He is clear ! Fly swiftly ! swiftly ! — He is safe ! 

HIPP. 

Daughter ? 

SIB. 

Safe! safe! — he has fled; the darkness 
hides him ! 
Safe ! he is safe, my father ! the good gods 
Have shielded him — We are not yet deserted ! 
(She kneels; Hippoclus extends his hands, as in prayer; 
and the curtain falls upon the tableau.) 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACT V 

SCENE I. A room in Charon's house. {Enter 
Damoclides and other Exiles.) 

DAMOCLIDES 

Nor Laon nor Charon yet returned; Pelopidas 

Vanished away, unheard of; Melon absent; 

Ourselves walled round with shadows none can pierce, 

And dangers, too: yet let not this disturb us. 

Let no man's spirit fail. If we must fall, 

Yet we fall nobly ; and hereafter, Thebes, 

By others freed, shall hold our memories dear, 

As her true sons and martyrs. But I hope 

A better fortune yet. Pelopidas, 

Though ta'en, and on the rack, could ne'er betray us; 

And Charon's faith is sure as any's. More 

I fear from Laon. Yet I would not wrong him. 

Pelopidas ever held him in regard. 

{Enter Charon.) 

DAM. 

What, Charon ! safe and unsuspected are we ? 

CHAR. 

Not safe, not unsuspected. Danger, growing, 
With every beat o' th' pulse, more imminent, 
Lowers around you. But you yet may save 

278 



PELOPIDAS 279 

Yourselves, and Thebes too. Arm: and quickly, here, 
Put on these women's cloaks and coronals: 
And then to the tyrants. 

DAM. 

But our chief? Pelopidas? 
Have you no words of him ? 

CHAR. 

Alas, too many! 
Think not of him; or, if you do, forgive him. 
His rashness has undone him ; and he is now 
I' th' hands o' th' Polemarchs. 



Ruined by rashness; 



In his own house. 



DAM. 

A prisoner! 

CHAR. 

Ay: a prisoner 

DAM. 



We did mistake him then ; 
Whom (on success of this our enterprise,) 
We had hailed gladly supreme Bceotarch, 
Chief of all Thebes. What can we do without him? 



CHAR. 



Die, (if we must hope nothing,) die like freemen, 
With arms in hand ; not tamely wait to perish 
Upon the headsman's block. 



280 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

DAM. 

Why, let us on, then, 
For death or victory, — for Pelopidas, 
The loved of Thebes : we may, perhaps, yet save 
His life, though never his honour — Hah ! 
(Enter Pelopidas, bloody.) 

ALL 

Pelopidas ! 

PELOP. 

Ha, ha! mine honour? thou liest, my Damoclides! 
Ha, ha ! mine honour ? ne'er save mine honour ? Look ! 
Here is my weapon ; there is blood upon it ! 
The first libation — 'Tis a Spartan's ! 



Is it a Polemarch's? 



DAM. 

What! 

PELOP. 



With this little weapon, 
Cut I my way through twice an hundred men. 
Never mine honour? What, ha, ha! By Jove! 
I am with you, and will lead you where you will, 
With honour! Are you ready? — Oh, Damoclides, 
Can you forgive me ? 



You are still Pelopidas. 



DAM. 

Speak of it no more : 



PELOPIDAS 281 



PELOP. 



I'll ne'er again 
Find fault with him that's human; or look to have 
My friend a demigod! I have deceived you, 
Wronged you, almost betrayed you. Am I not 

punished 
In the deep torments that afflict me ? Charon, 
I left my father, blind and chained, exposed 
In a dungeon to the fury of his keepers : 
My wife, too, (have I not repaired my fault ?) 
I left her to Leontidas! though nature 
Tugged at my heart, and filled it with distraction, 
I left her! — Come, I am ready: give me a sword. 

CHAR. 

A cloak, too, and a garland. 

PELOP. 

Ay, a garland. — 
Myrtle leaves now, and laurel-crowns hereafter! 
This cloak will serve me : 'twas put on my shoulders 
By the most noble wife of all the earth; 
And was the shield, wrapped round my arm, wherewith 
I stopped th' assaults of all the myrmidons. 
Jove! but I had a time on't! And they chased me, 
Like a hurt wolf, launching their darts and arrows, 
As 'twere another tempest, through the street. 
A wolf I fled; and, like a wolf, I bore 
Their blood upon my fangs. — Hah ! are you ready ? — 
I prattle like a girl! — All mantled? — Follow: 
And he that strikes more deeply than myself, 
Him, though a slave he were, I'll make my master! 

{Exeunt.) 



282 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SCENE II. The Street. (Enter, on the one side, 
Philip, with Guards bearing torches; and with them 
Laon; on the other side, Leontidas, also with Guards 
and lights. Shouts heard afar of.) 

LEON. 

What ho! Who are ye? Stand! 

PHILIP 

Leontidas? 
Brother, well met! 

LEON". 

What mean these riotous cries? 
Is it sedition ? By heaven, I took ye for 
A band of rebels that would block my way ! 

PHILIP 

It is sedition. The town is all aflame. 
The rumour of Pelopidas in the city 
Has set all mad; and, Down, they cry aloud, 
Down with the tyrants! Hence to the Citadel, 
If you would live. 



LEON. 

Why, let them roar their fill. 



Without a leader — 



PHILIP 

Think not that. They have 
Leaders enow, — ten banished men, from Athens 
Look you, I have one here that hath surrendered, 
And all their scheme betrayed.. Speak, slave; or ne'er 
Expect thy life and pardon. 



PELOPIDAS 283 

LAON 

I will win them, 
By speaking truth. Twelve men there were of us, 
Pelopidas our chief — 

LEON. 

'Tis true, then ? — Let them howl : 
We have him safe ! and for the ten — 

PHILIP 

Alas! 
There are four hundred more that follow them — 

LEON. 

Hah! 

PHILIP 

And, perhaps, already in the city. 
He hath told all. 

LEON. 

Four hundred exiles? 

PHILIP 

Backed 
By a great legion of Athenians. 

LEON. 

Ho, to the Citadel ! 
Call all to arms ! There is our safety ; there 
We can hold out against a hundred legions. 
Thither I'll follow, with my prisoner. 
But hold! — Knows Archias this? He must not 

perish, 
No effort made to save him. What! my tablets! 



284 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

A word will rouse him from his revelry. 

(He writes upon his tablets and gives them to a Soldier.) 
With thy best speed, bear these to Archias. 

(Exit Soldier.) 
On to the Citadel ! Ere you shall have reached it, 
And called th' alarm, myself will be with you. 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE III. The banquetting-room, as before. 
Archias, Philidas, and Guests discovered. Soft 
music heard. 

ARCH. 

Fill wine again, to chase these fears away; 

And think of naught but pleasure: fill, fill deep, 

And, in libations to th' infernal gods, 

To their dark realms devote our enemies. 

By heaven, methinks no man hath smiled, since 

Philip 
Breathed the curst name, Pelopidas, among us! 
Fill to the brim ! Behold, I pour the offering, 
And thus devote him to the Furies — 

(As Archias is about to pour the libation, the bowl 
falls to pieces in his hand. The Guests start up.) 

ARCH. 

Hah! 

GUESTS 

An omen ! 

ARCH. 

What, again? Are ye such sheep! 
Hath Philip's folly so infected you? 
All things are portents to the ignorant; 



PELOPIDAS 285 

And only such should fear them. Fill again; 

{He takes another bowl; the Guests resume their seats.) 

And again pour the offering. Thus again 

To the infernal Orcus I devote him ! — 

The cup is whole, the omen fails us now! 

Speak to them, Philidas. Hast thou no wisdom, 

To drive these idle terrors from their breasts? 

Or hold'st thou, too, such faith in presages! 

PHIL. 

Not I, my prince. For who shall say, among 

Th' occurrents of affairs, which ones are they 

Wherein Heaven speaks? The vultures fly all day, 

Yet bear the fates not always on their wings; 

The thunders rattle when they will, without 

A god to wake them; dreams and visions move us, 

Stirred by no restless spirits but our own. 

It is the error of our vanity, 

To deem Heaven thus, in trifles, speaks to us. 

ARCH. 

Thou say'st the truth. Of omens, then, no more. 
Pleasure alone be theme of speech and thought. 
And him that frowns, looks sad, or frights the feast 
With word of care, I'll hold a knave and traitor. 
The cares of day enough the day employ : 
Pleasure to-night, and business for the morrow! — 
Come our Bacchantes yet, my Philidas? 

PHIL. 

Anon, my prince. — 

{Enter a Soldier of the Guard.) 
What now? 



286 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SOLD. 

A messenger 
From Iphias the Athenian, — these with speed: 

{Gives a letter to Archias.) 
Matters of weight and peril. 

{Exit.) 

phil. (Aside.) 

Lost ! discovered ! 

ARCH. 

Business to-morrow! — Take it, Secretary. 
If thou wilt read it, well: but tell not me 
Of its contents. 

PHIL. 

Tis nothing. — (Aside.) Foul divulgement! — 
(Aloud) Suspicions of the exiles. 

ARCH. 

Now, by heaven, 
I'll hear their name no more! Let them plot on, 
While we feast merrily. Fill up again. — 

(Re-enter the Soldier.) 
What, knave, again! What wilt thou? 

SOLD. 

Please you, my prince, a drunken fellow brought 
This letter for his excellence the Secretary. 

ARCH. 

Give it me, and begone. (Exit Soldier.) What, 

Philidas! 
Our friends should have no secrets? 



PELOPIDAS 287 

PHIL. 

None, your highness — 
{Aside.) The letter of the Exiles! All is lost! 

ARCH. 

Faugh, how the cur hath thumbed it! — {To Philidas.) 

THE SECRETARY 

Some beggarly petition, 

I doubt me! {He casts it away.) I did hope, a tender 

missive 
Of some fair dame, to make a jest of! 

phil. {Aside.) 

Folly, 
I'll build an altar to thee {Music heard without.) 

Hark! they come' 
The fair Bacchantes! 

{Re-enter soldier.) 

sold. 

A message from Leontidas, 
On business of great moment. 

{He offers the tablets to Archias, who refuses them; and 
Philidas takes them.) 

ARCH. 

What, thou knave! 
At such a moment? — Business to-morrow! Hence 
All thought o' th' state, — of all but mirth and pleasure! 



288 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

(The Soldier retires. The great door is thrown open; 
and enter, — to music — in their cloaks and garlands, 
Pelopidas and the other Exiles, followed by Melon 
and Charon, who secure the door. The Guests start up 
and clap their hands. Archias descends from his seat, 
and advances to meet them.) 

Welcome, most welcome — Hah! what guests are these! 

(The Exiles throw off their cloaks, and draw their 

swords.) 

PELOP. 

Guests that ye looked not for. Down with the 

tyrants! 
Down with their myrmidons! 

(He attacks Archias ; the others engage the Guests.) 

ARCH. 

A conspiracy! 
Bring in the guards — What ho! — Defend me, Heaven! 

PELOP. 

Thou call'st in vain: the gods are deaf to tyrants! 
(He kills Archias ; the Guests are driven out.) 
Die with thy minions! — Take them forth, and slay 

them. 
Where is Leontidas? My steel is thirsty, 
But scorns the blood of bondmen. Where is he, 
The master tyrant? — Melon, see thou finish 
The work here. When 'tis done, set after me 
To mine own house. There is no true blow struck, 
Till struck i' th' bosom of Leontidas! 

(Exeunt.) 



PELOPIDAS 289 

SCENE IV. The prison-room in Pelopidas's 
house. {Enter Leontidas, with several Soldiers of the 
Guard, one of them leading Hylas.) 

LEON. 

If he be 'scaped — Yet, no! how could that be, 

Safe guarded thus? — (A shout is heard.) — Hark! how 

th' insurgent reptiles 
Roar through the streets! — Bring forth the prisoner, 
The hind— 
(Enter, from the vault, Sibylla; Hylas runs to her.) 

Sibylla here! Now by Ixion, 
And his infernal torment, this affrights me. — 
Why art thou here? — Bring forth the prisoner. 

SIB. 

Speak'st thou of Hippoclus? 

LEON. 

Of a nobler captive. — 
Thou bear'st it well ! But now no more dissembling — 
I seek Pelopidas ! — Dost thou hear me, villain ? 
The prisoner! 

SIB. 

He is beyond thy reach. 
Seek in the vault for none but Hippoclus; 
For none but he remains. 

LEON. 

Escaped ! 

SOLD. 

'Tis true: 
I feared to tell your highness. 



290 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LEON. 

Now may fire 
Fall on the hand that freed him! 



'Twas / that freed him. 



SIB. 

Why, on mine then : 

LEON. 

Thou? 



SIB. 

I, Polemarch! 
'Twas I that oped his prison door, and gave him 
The blade that won his freedom; I, even I, 
(The wretch thou thought 'st fit only for dishonour,) 
That sent him forth to do the like for Thebes, — 
To break her bonds, to arm her hands, to trample 
Her thrones and tyrants, till she is free as air, — 
As free as he is ! 

LEON. 

Thou wert a wife for Mars! 
But triumph not too early. (To Soldier.) Rank the 

guards, 
Straight, at the portal; and be ready all 
To march to th' Citadel. (Exit Soldier.) — I make thee 

now 
The last of love's persuasive invitations. 
All is not won, nor is all lost; for, with 
A Spartan garrison in the Citadel, 
And Sparta's self behind, you soon shall see me 
Master again of Thebes; her riotous people 



PELOPIDAS 291 

Chained in securer bondage; and their chiefs 
Again in exile. Think'st thou, thyself I'll yield? 
Thou must go with me to the Citadel. 

SIB. 

Never, vain prince — Think not I fear thee now, 
Pelopidas hard by me! Save thyself. — {Another shout 

heard.) 
Hear'st thou those cries, — the uproar of a nation 
Mad for the blood of its oppressors? Hence! 
I scorn and hate, but would not see thee slaughtered. 

LEON. 

Prattle these sarcasms in the Citadel — 
There is no time for trifling. What ! I ask thee, 
Wilt thou go peacefully; or have my slaves, 
With base, defiling clutches, drag thee thither? 

SIB. 

I fear them not, nor thee. (She draws a dagger.) The 

hand that aided 
Pelopidas, can help Sibylla too! 

LEON. 

The day of Amazons is past. (He seizes and disarms 

her.)— What ho ! 
Take the boy from her. 

(A soldier seizes Hylas.) 

sib. (To the Soldier.) 

Caitiff ! wilt thou harm him ? 



292 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LEON. 

Take him along. 

SIB. 

Why take him, then — And see 
Thou weep not, sirrah, — not a tear, I bid thee, — 
Not one, not one. — But still thou tak'st not me! 

LEON. 

Art thou so heartless to desert thy child ? 

SIB. 

Art thou so base to steal him? 

LEON. 

'Tis to make thee 
Follow the path he treads. 

SIB. 

I would not follow 
Where thou shouldst lead him ; though his tender arms 
Were knit among my heartstrings. — 
(A louder shout heard. Sibylla breaks from Leontidas 
and clings to a pillar.) 

Here I hold me, 
Till my arms are hacked off. 

(Another shout.) 

LEON. 

By heaven, the knaves 
Will be upon us! (He snatches up the boy.) What! 

thou driv'st me mad, 
And kill'st thy child — Come with me, or I slay him! 



PELOPIDAS 293 

SIB. 

Monster ! thou wouldst not hurt him ? 

LEON. 

Come with me; 
Or (by the gods, you know not how you stir me!) 
I'll from the window hurl him — 

SIB. 

Ah! 

LEON. 

To perish 
Upon the lances of the guard. 

SIB. 

Oh, man! — 
No, no, not man; but fiend! most savage demon! — 
Cast him forth, if thou wilt, upon the spears 
Of thy base followers ; or break and mangle 
His innocent limbs upon the flinty stones, 
(Stones not so flinty as thy cruel heart;) 
Dash out his brains before my eyes; thy dagger 
Strike through his neck and spot me with his blood ; 
Do this, — do all : thou canst not move me yet 
One step more near dishonour. 

LEON. 

By Acheron, 
He dies then ! 

SIB. 

Spare him! Oh, thyself may'st soon 
Crave the same mercy thou deny'st my boy. 
Spare him, Leontidas, and thou shalt be spared. 



294 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LEON. 

Come with me. 

SIB. 

Never! 
(Leontidas offers to cast the boy from the window.) 

Oh, ye great gods, give me 
Such strength as wild wolves ye have armed withal. 
Hold, murderer, hold! 

(She rushes against Leontidas: a Soldier seizes her. 
Another Shout.) 

LEON. 

Out, viper's egg! 

SIB. 

Ah!— ah! 
(She falls into a swoon: Leontidas is about to throw 
the boy from the window: a great shout is heard: and 
enter Pelopidas, who snatches the boy from Leontidas, 
and strikes the latter down. The Soldiers fly.) 

PELOP. 

What ! kill the child ? and not bethink thee how 

The gods rain thunderbolts! Die, wretch! I strike 
thee 

First for my bleeding country: (Stabs him.) 'tis ap- 
peased ! 

I strike now for Pelopidas! 

(Kills him.) 
(Enter Damoclides, Philidas, Charon, and Exiles; 

and one from the vault, leading Hippoclus. Pelopidas 

raises Sibylla and gives her the boy.) 



PELOPIDAS 295 

Sibylla ! 
My dear boy, all unharmed! — Hail, friends! Thus 

falls 
Another of your tyrants ! 

CHAR. 

Hail thou ! all hail 
Pelopidas, our great Deliverer! 

{Enter Melon.) 

MEL. 

Shout Victory all, and triumph, — Thebes is free! 

Fired by the name they love, — Pelopidas, — 

The citizens have stormed the Citadel, 

And put the garrison to the sword ; and with it, 

Philip the Polemarch ; and Laon too, 

The traitor fugitive. 

PELOP. 

'Twas noble! — Father, 
Have I not now redeemed mine honour? 

{He kneels to Hippoclus, who blesses him.) 



HIPP. 



The gods 



Preserve you long Bceotia's champion. 



PHIL. 



'Tis triumph all! The exiles, in reserve 

Upon the Hill of Fortune, marching on, 

The townsmen aiding, have the gates o'ermastered ; 

And all is ours. There's not a Spartan now 

Living in Thebes. 



296 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PELOP. 

Our liberty's accomplished! 
Now let the world, that once derided, wonder; 
Tyrants that scowl afar, look on and fear; 
And the galled victims of their tyranny, — 
The poor base fools that clank their chains and smile, 
Thinking the sound is music, — those who press them 
Upon their breasts, and still have grace to groan; 
Let them look on, leap up, and imitate; 
Let them look on us, till the serpent's teeth 
(Like those i' th' earth sown by our Ancestor,) 
Root in their bosoms, and bring forth armed men, 
Striking for vengeance and for Liberty! 
(Tableau and Curtain.) 

END OF ACT V. 



THE GLADIATOR 

The following text of The Gladiator is based on 
the best and fullest autograph manuscript among 
the Bird papers in the Library of the University of 
Pennsylvania. The collection contains two other 
manuscripts of the play, a complete rough draft in 
the author's hand, and a careful copy of the final 
draft in the handwriting of his wife. It seems that 
the MS. used for this text was submitted to Edwin 
Forrest, for whom it was written as a prize play, 
who suggested cuts and changes for the acting 
version. These alterations, marked with a pencil 
in the original, are enclosed in brackets of this 
form < >. Such changes in wording as apparently 
met with the author's approval have been followed 
for the most part without comment. 

The Gladiator was completed in April, 1831, 
Bird's second prize play accepted by Forrest. It 
was first produced at the Park Theater, New York, 
September 26, 1831, and became at once one of 
the most successful plays on the American stage. 
After Forrest's death it was given by John McCul- 
lough, Robert Downing, and others with every 
mark of favor. 



297 



THE GLADIATOR 
A Tragedy 

in FIVE ACTS 
PHILADELPHIA, APRIL, 183I 



299 



THE GLADIATOR 

Persons Represented 

Marcus Licinius Crassus, a Roman Prcetor. 

Lucius Gellius, a Consul. 

Scropha, a Qucestor. 

Jovius, a Centurion. 

Mummius, lieutenant to Crassus. 

Batiatus Lentulus, a Capuan Lanista, or master of 

gladiators. 
Bracchius, a Roman Lanista. 
Florus, son of B. Lentulus. 
Spartacus, a Thracian,' 
Phasarius, his brother, 
^Enomaiis, a Gaul, \ Gladiators. 

Crixus, a German, 

and others, 
A boy, son of Spartacus. 
Julia, niece of Crassus. 
Senona, wife of Spartacus. 
Citizens, soldiers, etc. 

SCENE. Rome, and parts of Italy. Time, B.C. 73. 



300 



THE GLADIATOR 

ACT I 

SCENE I. Rome. The Street before Bracchius's 
house. Enter Phasarius, ^Enomaiis, and other gladi- 
ators. 

PHASARIUS. 

There never was a properer moment. I look around 
me on the Roman flocks, that are deserted by their 
watchdogs and shepherds, and my fingers itch to 
be at their throats. Rome has sent forth her 
generals to conquer the world, and left nothing 
but her name for the protection of her citizens. 
Where now is that warlike, arrogant, and envious 
coxcomb, Pompey? Quarrelling, — he and that 
old brawler, Metellus, — in Spain, with the rebel, 
Sertorius: Lucullus, the Spoiler? Chasing the 
braggart, Mithridates, over his Pontic mountains: 
and Marcus, his brother? Killing the rest of my 
countrymen, the furies speed him! That restless 
boy, young Caesar ? Among the islands, crucify- 
ing the pirates. Marius dead, Sylla rotting. — 
There is not a man in Rome, that Rome could now 
look to for service. 

^ENO. 

The praetor, Crassus. 

301: 



302 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHAS. 

The miserable rich man, the patrician monger, that, 
by traffic in human flesh, has turned a patrimony 
of an hundred talents into an hundred thousand ! 
If there be any virtue in the love of wealth, 
then is the praetor a most virtuous man; for he 
loves it better than he loves the gods. And if he 
be great and magnanimous, who coins his gold 
from the sinews of his bondsmen, set me down 
Crassusas the beloved of all greatness. 'Sblood, 
brother sworder, what were such a counter of 
silver in the iron wars? Get me up a rebellion, 
and you shall see this great man brained by the 
least of his merchandise. 

/ENO. 

Well, I should like to be at the killing of some dozen 
such tyrants. 

PHAS. 

Why should you not ? Some thousands like ourselves, 
Most scurvy fellows, that have been trained, like dogs, 
To tear each other for their masters' pleasure, 
Shed blood, cut throats, and do such mortal mischiefs 
As men love best to work upon their foes, — 
Of these there are some thousands in this realm, 
Have the same wish with us, to turn their swords 
Upon their masters. And, 'tis natural, 
That wish, and reasonable, very reasonable. 
I am tired of slaying bondmen like myself, 
I am sick of it. That day the Roman knight, 
To win the smile of the rich quaestor's daughter, 
In the arena sprung, and volunteered 



THE GLADIATOR 303 

To kill a gladiator, and did find 
His liver spitted, like a thing of naught, 
Upon my weapon, — since that day I tasted 
Of Roman blood, I have had no desire 
To kill poor slaves — I've longed for naught but Ro- 
mans ! 

/ENO. 

Well, we can die, and kill some, ere we die. 

PHAS. 

Ay, marry, some dozens; 

And should those wretches be but moved to join us, 

We might, for dozens, count us glorious thousands. 

,ENO. 

Well , we are all agreed to this . We are thirty . B ut how 
Shall we get weapons? 



And force the armoury. 



PHAS. 

Set our dens afire, 



Our master, Bracchius, 
Has a sharp watch to that. 

PHAS. 

In half an hour, 
We are at our morning's practice. Now, thou knowest, 
To keep me in good heart, he humours me 
Most fulsomely. I have won him some great wagers, 
So I am worth his fooling. I will urge him, 
For this day's play, instead of laths, to give us 



304 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

True brands, for keener practice, that we may 
Show nobler for him at the praetor's games. 

MNO. 

<He knows, indeed, 'tis needful we have ready, 
For these same games, the best of skill : > I've heard 
That Lentulus the Capuan brings a troop 
Of excellent swordsmen on that day. 

Phas. 

What, excellent? 
Did I not beat his boaster ? — Excellent ? 



'Tis rumoured so. 



JENO. 



PHAS. 



By Jove, we will put off 
This thing a day ! I have seen no excellence 
In weapons for a month. 

.ENO. 

Why need you see it ? 

PHAS. 

Nay, if he have a man to meet a man, 
I must be in the arena: No desertion, 
When there's a peril to be dared and ended! 
Faith, I will have a bout, if it but be 
To make Rome talk. You shall see, ^Enomaiis, 
If he be matched with me in the Thracian combat, 
How I will use that trick my brother taught me, 
When first I flashed a weapon. 



THE GLADIATOR 305 

jENO. 

I doubt not, 
You will maintain your reputation. 

PHAS. 

Faith, 
I'll hear once more this Roman acclamation, 
Ere it be changed to curses. 

iENO. 

See ! Our master — 

PHAS. 

Well, get you gone. 

iENO. 

Forget not for the weapons. 

PHAS. 

Ay, ay — after the shows. 

(Ex[i]t. JEnomaus and the Gladiators. Enter 
Bracchius.) 

BRAC. 

How now, Phasarius; what did these cutthroats here? 
Idling, Sirrah? 

PHAS. 

No; they were moralizing over their scars, and asking 
what they had got by 'em. 

BRAC. 

Do the rogues think themselves soldiers, that their 
cuts should be worth anything but showing? 



306 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



PHAS. 

No. But some of them hope to be made freedmen one 
day, when they are no longer fit for the arena. 

BRAC. 

Fellow, thou knowest I love thee, and will enfranchise 
thee. 

PHAS. 

Yes, — when my eye is dimmed, my arm stiffened, my 
heart chilled, my head gray : I look for redemption 
no sooner. I am a lusty, serviceable rogue yet: 
Why should you free me now? 

BRAC. 

Sirrah, are you insolent? I will have the centupon- 
dium to your heels, and the lash to your shoulders. 

PHAS. 

Which will make me fight the better at the praetor's 
games, hah ! Which of us is the lunatic ? 

BRAC. 

What, you knave ! 

PHAS. 

Thou art my master; but I know, thou wouldst as 
soon set me free, as scourge me. Both would 
destroy thy subsistence, and one thy life; in 
either case, I would fight no more. And if thou 
wert to touch me lawfully with the thong, thou 
knowest, I would unlawfully murder thee. 



THE GLADIATOR 307 

BRAC. 



You shall be crucified ! 



PHAS. 



Then shall the crows pick forty thousand crowns from 
my bones; for so much are these muscles worth. 



BRAC. 



Out upon you, villain ! It is my favour has made thee 
so insolent. 

PHAS. 

It is my knowledge of my own price, and not thy 
favour, which is more perilous than thine anger. 
Pr'ythee, threaten me no more; or I shall grow 
peaceable, and spoil thy fortune. 

BRAC. 

You have sworn never to decline the combat. 

PHAS. 

Ay; so I have. But I have found no one regards a 
slave's oath; and why now should the slave? It 
is my humour, and not my oath, makes me a 
shedder of blood. But the humour may change. 

BRAC. 

Well, thou art a most impudent talker; it is eternal 
Saturnalia with thee. But I forgive thee, and 
will do thee more kindness than I have done 
already. 



3o8 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



PHAS. 

Which is to say, you have some new jeopardy to put 
my neck in. You have some gladiator of fame 
you would have me fight, is it not ? 

BRAC. 

Ay, if rumour be worth the noting. Crassus has hired 
the gladiators from Capua; and, 'tis said, Lentu- 
lus will bring with them a man that will cut the 
coxcomb from thy pate, and utterly annihilate 
thee. 

PHAS. 

They say so? Annihilate me! 

BRAC. 

Faith, 'tis so reckoned, and strong wagers are making 
against you. 

PHAS. 

Hah? Against me? Annihilate me! If he have a 
head of adamant and a breast of brass, he may do 
it; but if his scull be common bone, and his skin 
no thicker than bullhide — Mehercle! let me see 
this Cyclops. 

BRAC. 

Now, by Jupiter, I love thy spirit. 

PHAS. 

Has he no name? No country? No voucher of 
triumphs? Marry, for a mushroom, a thing that 
was yesterday unknown, his credit is a jot too 



THE GLADIATOR 309 

arrogant; and, as I am a Thracian, and feel the 
blood of the warlike god, the father of Thrace, 
still tingle in my fingers, I will make my iron 
acquainted with his ribs. — Out upon him, — 
Annihilate me ! 

BRAC. 

Come, thou art his better; but he is noted enough to 
make thy triumph the more glorious. Put thy- 
self in the meanwhile to practice. But who comes 
here? What, Lentulus of Capua? 

{Enter Lentulus.) 

By mine honesty, I am glad to see thee. Bringest 
thou any new cutthroats? What man, here is 
my Mars of gladiators, my most unmatched and 
unmatchable, Phasarius the Thracian. Look how 
lusty the knave looks! Hast anything fit to be 
slashed by such a fellow ? 

LENT. 

Nay, I know not. 'Tis a most gallant villain. < Slew 
he not six at the shows given by Gellius the 
consul ? 

BRAC. 

Yes, by Mars; and would have made eel's meat of the 
seventh, but that the people grew pitiful and 
pointed their thumbs. — I could have cuffed 'em, 
senators and all. — He had him on his hip, his 
body bent round him thus, his fist to his poll, 
his dagger to his throat. By Mars, 'twas the 
noblest sight I had seen for a month: and yet 



310 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

when he looked to them for the doom, the pitiful 
things cried Nay. — I could have cuffed 'em ! > 

LENT. 

But is he thy best man ? 

BRAC. 

The best in Rome. I have a Gaul too; but he is not 
his equal. I would thou hadst a match for either. 
Crassus will pay: the best gladiator in the land 
were no loss, if killed in his service. 

LENT. 

I have brought some indifferent good fellows: and 
one of them, I think, I would wager against your 
unmatchable. 

BRAC. 

Hearest thou that, Phasarius? Get in and practice. 

(Exit Phasarius.) 

LENT. 

But he will not take the gladiator's oaths. 

BRAC. 

What, is he slave or felon? 

LENT. 

A slave that I bought of the quaestor just returned 
from the army of Thrace; a shepherd, I think, 
they told me, and leader of a horde of his savage 
countrymen. I bought him on the faith of the 
fame he brought with him, of being the most 
desperate, unconquerable, and, indeed, skilful 



THE GLADIATOR 311 

barbarian in the province. <Thou hast not for- 
got Caius Clypeus, the centurion, that fought in 
the shows at the funeral of Sylla ? 

BRAC. 

He was accounted on that day the second swordsman 
in Rome. 

LENT. 

His bones, with those of two of his followers, are 
rotting on the banks of the Strymon. The three 
attacked the valiant savage, my bondman; and 
by Jupiter, without other help than fortune and 
extraordinary prowess, he slew them all. 

BRAC. 

Hercules! he has magic weapons !> But how was 
he taken? 

LENT. 

Betrayed by his follower, while he slept; and yet he 
had vengeance on his betrayer, for he dashed his 
brains out upon a rock. 

BRAC. 

Excellent! Dash his brains out! He is a Titan. I 
would have given a dozen common slaves to have 
seen him do that thing! 

LENT. 

But he will not swear. 

BRAC. 

Come, thou knowest not the nature of these fellows. 
Didst thou speak him kindly ? 



312 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LENT. 

Ay: but I had better have talked softly to a hyena: 
he did but scowl at me. Faith, he will sit yon 
by the day, looking at his chains, or the wall; and 
if one has a word from him, it is commonly a 
question, How many leagues he is away from 
Thrace. 

BRAC. 

Didst thou tell him of the honours of a gladiator? 

LENT. 

Ay; and he asked if cutting throats was the most 
honourable occupation in Rome? 

BRAC. 

By Mars, thou shouldst have scourged him. 

LENT. 

I did. 

BRAC. 

And how wrought it? 

LENT. 

I think the knave had killed me, when I struck him, — ay, 
even with his manacled fist, — but that he was 
felled by the staff of my freedman. I should 
have hanged him, but was loath to lose so bold 
a varlet. Wherefore I had him scourged again, 
and faith he took it as passively as a stone. But 
it will not make him swear. 

BRAC. 

Didst thou vow to the gods to hang him up like a dog, 
if he were so obstinate? 



THE GLADIATOR 313 

LENT. 

I had a halter put to his neck; but then he laughed, 
and thanked his barbarous gods for such indul- 
gence. 

BRAC. 

Nay, this is a madman. 

LENT. 

I had the fetters taken from his arm, and sent one to 
attack him with a weapon. But although I laid 
a sword by him, he would not use it; yet he struck 
the assailant with his fist, and felled him as one 
would a wall with a battering ram. But then 
he was angry. Another time, he sat still, and 
let the slave wound him, unresisting. 

BRAC. 

Moody caitiff! Thou hadst better drown him. — Look 
thou — Mine eyes are dim — I have bought a troop 
of women and children — Thracians too — and I 
think those be they coming yonder. 

LENT. 

Thou art mistaken. Those are mine own cutthroats, 
and the wild Thracian among them. 

BRAC. 

Why didst thou bring him to Rome? 

LENT. 

In a last hope to urge him to the oath. Look, is he 
not a most warlike and promising fellow? 

{Enter Spartacus, chained, and Florus with the Ca- 
puan Gladiators.) 



3H DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

BRAC. 

A Hercules, a Mars! What, thou rogue, why dost 
thou droop thus? Why art thou so sullen and 
obstinate? No words? What, canst thou not 
speak? — Fetch me a scourge hither — I'll find 
thee a tongue. 

LENT. 

Come, sirrah, look up, speak, show thyself. 

SPART. 

Is it a thousand leagues away to Thrace? 

LENT. 

What, thou fool, wilt thou always be harping on 

Thrace? 
'Tis so far away, thou wilt never see it more. 

SPART. 

Never. 

LENT. 

Why I say, never. Why wilt thou be so mad as to 
think of it ? 

SPART. 

Have Romans fathers, and wives, and children? 

BRAC. 

Truly ! Thou art a Thracian ; what is thy name ? 

SPART. 

Misery. 



THE GLADIATOR 315 

LENT. 

Thou seest ! 

BRAC. 

Faith, thou hast scourged him too much; thou hast 
broke his heart. Come, sirrah, dost thou love 
thy country? 

SPART. 

I have none, — I am a slave. I was bought; I say, 
I was bought. Do you doubt it? That man 
scourges me ; thou didst threaten me with stripes ; 
every Roman I look upon, speaks to me of scourg- 
ing. Nay they may: I was bought. 

LENT. 

Thou seest, Bracchius! This is the manner of his 
obstinacy. 

BRAC. 

Nay, I see more than thou thinkest. I can move him 
yet. — Observe him. — He mutters to himself. 

SPART. 

Is not this Rome? The great city? 

BRAC. 

Ay; and thou shouldst thank the gods they have 
suffered thee to see it, before thou diest. — 

SPART. 

I heard of it, when I was a boy among the hills, piping 
to my father's flocks. They said, that spoke of it, 



316 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

it was the queen of cities, the metropolis of the 
world. My heart grew big within me, to hear of 
its greatness. I thought those men who could 
make it so, were greater than men ; they were gods. 

LENT. 

And are they not, sirrah? — 

SPART. 

How many palaces, that look like the habitations of 
divinities, are here about me ! Here are marble 
mountains, that have been hewn down and 
shaped anew, for men to dwell among. Gold, 
and silver, and purple, and a million of men 
thronging the pillared hills! 

BRAC. 

And what thinkest thou, now thou hast seen it? 

SPART. 

That, — if Romans had not been fiends, Rome had 
never been great ! Whence came this greatness, 
but from the miseries of subjugated nations? 
How many myriads of happy people— people that 
had not wronged Rome, for they knew not Rome 
— how many myriads of these were slain like the 
beasts of the field, that Rome might fatten upon 
their blood, and become great? Look ye, Ro- 
man, — there is not a palace upon these hills that 
cost not the lives of a thousand innocent men; 
there is no deed of greatness ye can boast, but 
it was achieved upon the ruin of a nation ; there 
is no joy ye can feel, but its ingredients are blood 
and tears. 



THE GLADIATOR 317 



LENT. 

Now marry, villain, thou wert bought not to prate, 
but to fight. 

SPART. 

I will not fight. I will contend with mine enemy, 
when there is strife between us; and if that enemy 
be one of these same fiends, a Roman, I will 
give him advantage of weapon and place; he 
shall take a helmet and buckler; while I, with my 
head bare, my breast naked, and nothing in my 
hand but my shepherd's staff, will beat him to 
my feet and slay him. But I will not slay a man 
for the diversion of Romans. 

BRAC. 

Thou canst boast, barbarian! If thou canst do this, 
what brought thee to Rome, a captive? 

SPART. 

Treachery! I was friendless, sick, famished. My 
enemies came in numbers. They were like the 
rats of Egypt, that will not come near the croco- 
dile while he is awake: they attacked me sleeping. 
Had they found me with a weapon in my hands, 
Gods! I had not now been a thing for Romans 
to scourge. 

BRAC. 

Fellow, I love thee. What is thy name? 

SPART. 

What matters it ? 



318 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

BRAC. 

Wilt thou be free? 

SPART. 

Free! 

BRAC. 

Take the oaths of a gladiator, and kill me a score of 
lusty fellows — 

SPART. 

A score! kill a score of men? in cold blood? and for 
the diversion of Rome's rabble? I will not. 

BRAC. 

By Mars, then you shall be sent to man young Caesar's 
galleys, and be whipped daily. 

LENT. 

Fight me half a score, and, by Jupiter, I will send thee 
back to thy wife. 

SPART. 

My wife! — The last thing that mine eyes looked on, 
When my steps turned from Thrace, it was my cottage 
A hideous ruin ; the Roman fires has scorched it : 
No wife sat sobbing by the wreck; no child 
Wept on the sward; not even the watchdog howled: 
There was no life there. — Well, why should I talk? 
'Tis better they are perished. 



The slave is reckless. — 



LENT. 

This is despair 



THE GLADIATOR 319 

SPART. 

O ye heavens ! that sight 
Withered my heart; I was a man no more. 
I had been happy too! — Had ye spared them, 
Then spoke of freedom, you should have had my blood, 
For beastly ransome: All integrity 
And pride of heart I would have sold for it. 

BRAC. 

Sirrah, there are more wives in Thrace. 

LENT. 

Lo now! 
He'll speak no more. — You, Bracchius, have more skill 
To move these obstinates. You shall buy him of me. 

BRAC. 

And hang him! Marry, not I. He is a madman. 
I have some better merchandise here now, 
Not warlike, but as gainful. 

{Enter Senona, with a child, and other slaves.) 

Thou seest these creatures: 
Here are some Thracians too. — The moody villain ! 
He should be hanged. — The Thracian women are 
Most excellent spinners. Buy a brace of them 
For your wife. I care not for so many. 

LENT. 

This woman 
That weeps so, she with the brat, — is she a Thracian? 

BRAC. 

Hark ye, mistress, answer — are you of Thrace? 

One might swear it by her silence; for these savages 



320 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Are always obstinate at the first. You like her? 
Well, out of my friendship now, I'll almost give her to 

you. 
Three thousand drachmas — 

LENT. 

Three thousand furies! 

BRAC. 

Ay, with the boy too — 'Tis a lusty imp. 

LENT. 

Three thousand sesterces; and that's too much. 

BRAC. 

Jove ! talk of sesterces ? This cub is worth it ! 

(brac. handling the child roughly.) 

SENO. 

Ah, hurt him not. 

SPART. 

Hah! 

LENT. 

Three thousand sesterces. — 

SPART. 

Did my ears mock me? 

BRAC. 

Well then sesterces, 
For the woman alone. 



J HE GLADIATOR 321 

SENO. 

You will not part us ? 

SPART. 

Hah! 
Gods, pity me ! does the grave give back the dead ? 
Senona! 

SENO. 

Hah! Hah! My husband! 

BRAC. 

What's the matter? 

LENT. 

A bargain — 

BRAC. 

What, his wife? Six thousand drachmas. 
No more sesterces! — Caitiff, is this thy wife? — (To 
Spart.) 

SPART. 

And my miserable boy too, 
Exposed in the street to sell ! 

BRAC. 

By Jove, I have you. 
Six thousand drachmas. 

SPART. 

Why didst thou not die? — 
Villains, do you put them up for sale, like beasts ? 
Look at them : they are human. 



322 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LENT. 

Silence, rogue. — 

SPART. 

I will not silence. I will ransome them, 
What way you will, with life or blood. — 

BRAC. 

By Jove, 
I will not sell her. Into the house, get in. — 
Take her along. 

SPART. 

You shall not — I will brain that man 
That lays his hand upon her. 

BRAC. 

Kill the villain. — 

SPART. 

Man, master! — See, I am at your feet, and call you, 
Of mine own will, My Master ! — I will serve you 
Better than slave e'er served; — grant me this prayer, 
And hire my blood out. Buy — yes, that's the word; 
It does not choke me — buy her, buy the boy; 
Keep us together — 

BRAC. 

Six thousand drachmas — 

SPART. 

I will earn them, 
Though they were doubled. 



THE GLADIATOR 323 

LENT. 

Will you fight? 

SPART. 

And die. 

LENT. 

Die! Then my gold is lost. 

SPART. 

I will not die. — 
Buy them, buy them. 

LENT. 

And you will swear? 

SPART. 

I will — 
To be a cutthroat and a murderer, — 
Whate'er you will, — so you will buy them. 

LENT. 

Unbind him. 

BRAC. 

Six thousand — 

LENT. 

Three. Remember, Bracchius, 
If you prevent his fighting, your own profit 
Suffers as well as mine. 

BRAC. 

Five thousand then. 



324 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LENT. 



Nay, pr'ythee, four. 



BRAC. 



Well, out of friendship, 
It shall be four. — But, faith, my Gaul shall kill him. 



LENT. 



We shall see. I'll wager even, and no less 
Than the purchase money. — 



SPART. 



Come dry your tears, Senona: 
We are slaves: Why should slaves weep ? 



SENO. 



O, dear my husband, 

Though I ne'er thought to have the joy to meet you 

Again, in this dark world, I scarce feel joy — 

I think, my heart is burst. 



SPART. 



Come, be of better cheer: 
Art thou not now amid the gorgeous piles 
Of the potential and the far-famed Rome? 



SENO. 



But Oh, the hills of our own native land ! 
The brooks and forests — 



SPART. 

Ah! no more, no more: 



Think of them not. — 



THE GLADIATOR 325 

SENO. 

Where we fed sheep, and laughed 
To think there could be sorrow in the world; 
The bright, clear rivers, even that washed the walls 
Of our burned cottage — 

SPART. 

No more, no more, no more. 
Are there not hills and brooks in Italy, 
Fairer than ours? Content you, girl. 

SENO. 

Alas, 
This boy must be a Roman, and a slave. 

SPART. 

By heaven, he shall not ! Free as rock-hatched eagles, 
Thy boy was born, and so shall live and die! — 
We wear our fetters only for a time — 
Romans are not all like these men. We'll see 
Our home yet. We are slaves but for a time. — 
I need not ask thee for my mother, girl : 
I know this thing has slain her. Her heart cracked, 
When they bore off my brother. 

LENT. 

With the Gaul then: 
And if he beat him, as I think he will, 
Then shall he battle with your best. — Now, sirrah. 

SPART. 

Hah! 



326 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SENO. 

Husband ! 

SPART. 

Well, it is not chains alone 
That make the slave. What will my master have? 

LENT. 

I'll have thee exercise thine arm in practice. 
Thou wilt have brave men to contend with. 



SPART. 



Well, 



I will do so: but speak it not before my wife. 



LENT. 



Get thee along. Florus, conduct them to 
Their lodgings. See this Thracian exercised. 

(Exeunt.) 



END OF ACT I. 



ACT II 

SCENE I. A room in Crassus's house. Enter 
Crassus, Jovius, an Artificer, and a Slave. 

CRASSUS 

To the full letter of the law. What, use 
My excellent slave in thy most gainful craft, 
And groan at the reckoning? By Jupiter, 
Thou shalt his hire pay to the utmost sesterce, 
Or have a quittance writ upon thy back. 
Breed I then servants for the good of knaves? 
Find me the money, or I'll have thee whipped. 
Begone. (Exit Artificer.) I built not up my for- 
tunes thus, 
By taking sighs for coin: had I done so, 
Foul breath had ruined me. How should I then 
Have borne the hard expenses of these games, 
The uproarious voters clamour for ? 

jov. 

What! true. 
Wealth is the key to office, here in Rome, — 
Or is the lock that best secures it. 

CRASS. 

Sirrah, 
Thou dost not mean, the officers bribe the people? 

327 



328 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

jov. 

I had sooner lug old Cerberus by the ears, 

Than do aught to our citizens, but praise 'em. 

But, in your gracious ears, — our sovereign Romans 

Are something bauble-brained; and, like to children, 

Pass qualmish by their needful medicines, 

To snatch at sugary playthings. What do they 

In their elections? Faith, I have observed, 

They ask not if their candidate have honour, 

Or honesty, or proper qualities ; 

But, with an eager grin, What is his wealth? 

If thus and thus — Then he can give us shows 

And feasts; and therefore is the proper man. 

An excellent mode of judging ! 

CRASS. 

Ancient comrade, 
At me thou point'st now. 

jov. 

Not irreverently : 
I question of the people; and, I think, 
They loved great Marius more for his rich feasts, 
Than his rich victories. Sooth, when angry Sylla 
Swept them, like dogs, out of his bloody path, 
And made their hearts sore, they forgot their fury, 
When once they had looked upon his righting lions. 

CRASS. 

Hence, thou inferrest, they have chose me praetor, 
Being rich enough to purchase them diversions ! 
But I have done them service in the wars, 
And, out of gratitude — But no more of that. — 
They shall be pleased: the games go bravely on. 



THE GLADIATOR 329 

The Capuan hath brought me a new sworder. — 
Sirrah, go bid my niece here {Exit Slave.) This Cap- 
uan hath 
A son most insolent and troublesome. 

{Enter Florus) 
What, Sirrah, again? Hast thou not had thy answer? 
< Kill me these flies that being lean themselves, 
Swarm after fatness. > Why art thou this fool, 
To covet my rich niece ? 



FLOR. 

I seek not riches. 

CRASS. 

Pah ! Will poor lovers sing eternally 
The self-same song ? They seek not riches ! Jove, 
Why pass they then all poverty, where their choice 
Might find a wider compass ? 

FLOR. 

Excellent praetor, 
Give me the maid, and keep her lands thyself. 

CRASS. 

Sirrah, thou know'st, the girl abhors thee. Look, 
She has the blood of nobles in her veins, 
Distilling purely through a thousand years ; 
And thine comes grossly from a German slave's, 
That was thy grandsire. 

FLOR. 

Worth and deserving toil can raise me up, 
Even from my poverty, to wealth and honours. 
And these shall do it. 



330 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRASS. 

Get thee away then 
To warring Pompey, and, with thy soiled sword, 
Carve out clean honours; not forgetting, whilst 
Thy right hand grasps the enemy's throat, to 

thrust 
The left into his purse : For what is honour, 
With empty pockets, in this thievish world? 
Honour is men's consideration : men 
Consider none, but those can profit them. 
Therefore, if thou'lt be quick 
In gaining honour, use thy right hand rather 
For gathering gold than killing — or rather use them 

both : 
Make much, and thou shalt be most honourable. 

jov. 

Thou hearest, Florus? This is the truer wisdom. 
I've fought for honour some good thirty years, — 
< Courting her with such madman freaks, as 

leaping, 
First man, upon an arm'd wall in the storm; 
Saving a comrade's life (some dozen of 'em,) 
Out of the jaws of death ; contesting singly 
With scores, in divers places. > But being foolish, 
In my hot haste for slaughter, I forgot 
To look for spoil; and lo, the consequence! 
I bear the vine-branch, 1 and am only honoured 
As a gray-haired centurion. 

1 The MS. contains the following note, written in Bird's hand: 
,l This (the vine branch) was the badge of a centurion's office, 
and he should carry it — at least in camp and in his embassies. " 



THE GLADIATOR 331 

CRASS. 

Get thee gone. 
When thou art worthy, ask her, and no sooner. 

{Exit Florus.) 
A most mad, insolent boy, and honest son 
Of a breeder of cutthroats ! Would some knave would 

hang him. 
He has the damsel's heart too. See, she comes. — 
Is the litter ready? 

{Enter julia.) 

JUL. 

It cannot be, dear uncle, 
You will send me to the country ? 

CRASS. 

It cannot be ! 
What, chuff, it cannot be? In faith, it can be, 
And, instantly, it shall be: — Into the country, 
To weep and meditate. I am ashamed 
You have so poor a spirit as to love 
This base-born Capuan, whose whole wealth you 

might, 
Piled up in coin, base on a puny drachma. 

JUL. 

Ah! When did love e'er think of drachmas, uncle? 
< You would have me, when a lover moans, demand 

him, 
Could he coin gold, as easily as sighs; 
Or when he wept, ask if his pockets had 
As many talents as his eyes had tears. 



332 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Then should he change his manner, and where he 

might 
Have wooed me with soft words, assault me with 
A schedule of his properties ; instead 
Of flattering, boast me of his lands; his vows 
Change into oaths of, lord, how rich he was. 
How could I say him nay?> 

CRASS. 

A milksop boy, 
That has done nothing in the world but breathe, — 
Has won no name or fortune. Why should such 
A natural expletive, <a sack of breath, > 
Aspire to wealth or woman ? When he proves him 
Worth his existence, then let him aspire. 
Till then thou shalt be hid from his presumption, 
Even in Campania. 

JUL. 

Oh, but not today. 
Tomorrow, or the next day, when the games are done. 
I must see them : 'twould kill me, not to look 
Once more upon the fighting gladiators. 

CRASS. 

Pho! 
Thou a green girl, and talk of gladiators! 
My youth was pass'd in battles, and I am not 
Unused to blood; but my flesh always creeps, 
To see these cold-blood slaughters. 

JUL. 

So does mine. 
Ugh ! my heart stops with terror, and my eyes 
Seem parting from their sockets ; my brain reels, 



THE GLADIATOR 333 

While I look on; and while I look, each time, 
I swear I ne'er will look again. But when 
They battle boldly, and the people shout, 
And the poor creatures look so fearless, — frowning, 
Not groaning, when they are hurt: — Indeed 'tis noble! 
<And though they fright me, always make me weep, 
I love to see them. These are your own shows :> 
Oh, I must see them. 

jov. 

This is a brave maiden. 
< You should look on a battle — two great armies, 
(Perhaps a hundred thousand men apiece:) 
Fighting as staunchly as so many wolves, 
Throttling and stabbing, dying in multitudes, — 
A chaos of death v — Even such a one as that 
(My own first fight) at Aqua Sextia, 
Against the Ambrones, where a hundred thousand 
Of the barbarians fell. 

JUL. 

An hundred thousand ! 

jov. 
Was it not glorious ? 

JUL. 

Horrid! 

JOV. 

Horrid ! Humph, 
Still woman. — But these were barbarians. 



334 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JUL. 

Were they not men? 

jov. 

Why yes, a sort of men. 
They had legs and arms, noses and eyes like men, 
They bled like men; but, being barbarians, 
Of not much matter of account as men. 

JUL. 

That makes a difference. But an hundred thousand 
Was many to kill, even of barbarians. 

CRASS. 

Come, you're a goose, you know not what you say. 

JUL. 

but these gladiators! My friend, Caloeia, 
Told me that famous one, Phasarius, 
Would fight today. He is a handsome rogue, 
And kills a man the prettiest in the world. > 

CRASS. 

You shall not see him. 

JUL. 

Dear my uncle. 

CRASS. 

You came 
Into this city, modest and obedient; 
Now you have learnt to cog, cajole and cozen; 
And, in the teeth of my authority, 



THE GLADIATOR 335 

Give private hopes to this low Capuan ; 
And, while mine eyes are tied upon the games, 
Would — But I'll balk your hoped for interviews. 
The litter waits you at the door. Farewell. 
This good old man, who once was my tried client, 
Shall have you in charge. Now no more opposition. 
Farewell. Be wise, and love none but the worthy. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. A court before Lentulus's house. 
Enter Florus with Spartacus, Crixus, and other 
Gladiators. 

flor. 

You have played well, and beaten Crixus fairly. 
Carry this skilfulness to the arena, 
And you shall win great honour. 

SPART. 

Great degradation. 
No matter: I am sworn to be a caitiff. 
Where have you placed my wife ? It was conditioned, 
You should not part us. 

FLOR. 

She is lodged hard by : 
After the combat, you shall see her. — Come, 
Play me a bout here with Soturius. 
I'll fetch you foils. 

SPART. 

I'll play no more: I was not sworn to that. 



336 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FLOR. 

You cannot go too well prepared. 

SPART. 

Even as I stand, 
Awkward or skilful, doomed to die or kill, 
So will I go. — I'll train no more for murder. 

FLOR. 

Well, as you will. 

SPART. 

Will it not be enough, 
If I disarm or worst my enemy ? 
May I not spare him? 

FLOR. 

Not unless the people 
Grant you permission. <When you have him at 
Your mercy, look to the spectators then. 
If they consent, they will their thumbs raise — thus: 
Then you shall spare. But if their hands be clenched, 
And the thumbs hid, then must you slay. > 

SPART. 

Well, well* 
I understand. 

FLOR. 

Breathe yourselves here awhile, 

Then follow to the armoury. 

(Exit.) 

SPART. 

Good brother, 
Have you yet fought i' th' Amphitheatre? 



THE GLADIATOR 337 

CRIX. 

Ay. 

SPART. 

And killed 
Your adversary ? 

CRIX. 

Ay. Each one of us 
Has won some reputation. 

SPART. 

Reputation ! 
Call you this reputation? 
This is the bulldog's reputation: 
He and the gladiator only need 
The voice o' the master, to set on to mischief. — 
Love you your masters? 

CRIX. 

No. 



Go ye to perish ? 



SPART. 

Or of your own wishes 

CRIX. 



No; but being slaves, 
We care not much for life ; and think it better 
To die upon the arena, than the cross. 



SPART. 



If ye care not for life, why die ye not 
Rather like men, than dogs? 



338 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRIX. 

What mean you? 

SPART. 

Were it not better 
To turn upon your masters, and so die, 
Killing them that oppress you, rather than fall, 
Killing your brother wretches ? 

CRIX. 

True, it were. 
Put arms into our hands, unlock our dungeons, 
And set us out among the citizens; 
Then ask this question. 

SPART. 

Do you say this? By heaven, 
This spirit joys me. — Fight ye all today? 



We are so ordered. 



Fifty. 



CRIX. 
SPART. 

How many do you number? 

CRIX. 
SPART. 



Fifty? How many hath this Roman, 
This villain Bracchius? 

CRIX. 

Some five and thirty. 



THE GLADIATOR 339 



SPART. 

And fight they all? 

CRIX. 

Some forty pairs today. 

SPART. 

O heaven, what, forty? 

CRIX. 

And ere the shows are done, 
Two hundred pairs. 

SPART. 

Two hundred pairs ! — Four hundred 
Arm'd slaves, that hate their masters! 

CRIX. 

On the third day, 
All that survive, will fight in general battle. 

SPART. 

In general battle! — If Senona now, 

And the young infant were in Thrace. — Alas, 

To peril them. — 

CRIX. 

What say'st thou, Thracian? 

SPART. 

Nothing ; 
At least, not much. — Are there now troops in Rome? 



340 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRIX. 

Four legions of Praetorian Guards; and now 
Each legion counts five thousand. 

SPART. 

'Twill not do. 



What will not do ? 



CRIX. 



SPART. 



I'll tell you by and by: 
Tis worth your ear. — But let us now go arm, 
Then to the Arena, to begin the work 
Of slavish murder. — We are gladiators. 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE III. The Arena of an Amphitheatre, be- 
hind which are many citizens. Crassus seated with his 
Lictors, Mummius, Lentulus, Bracchius, Florus, 
and many officers, — JEdiles, Conquisitores, etc. 

CRASS. 

Let our good friends, the citizens, be seated. 

We purpose to delight their humours with 

The bravest gladiators of this realm. — 

What say'st thou, Capuan? Why tell me, thou 

Hast brought me some brave cutthroats, to be pitched, 

Through the first hours, in single combat, with 

The best slaves of our Bracchius. 

LENT. 

Even so, 
Most noble praetor; and, with the consent 



THE GLADIATOR 341 

Of your appointed officers, we first 
Will bring a lusty Thracian, who, although 
Yet unad ventured in the Arena, bears 
A name of valour. 

CRASS. 

Let him before us. 

{Exit Florus.) 
Had Thracians, by their firesides, fought as fiercely 
As now they fight upon the Roman sand, 
The cranes o' the Strymon still had been their sentries. 

{Reenter Florus, with Spartacus, as a gladiator.) 

Is this the man? A very capital knave; 

Yet, or I err, of but a little spirit. 

Where is the fiery confidence, should flash 

From his bold eyes? the keen and tameless spirit, 

Should brace his strong limbs to activity? 

LENT. 

Driveller, arouse thee! — Let not his gloom condemn 

him: 
He is most wayward, but, in truth, right valiant. 
What, sirrah, shake off these clouds, and do thy 

homage 
To the most noble praetor. Bend thy knee. 

SPART. 

Did I swear that? Kneel thou, whose servile soul 
Was given for crouching. I am here to fight! 

CRASS. 

This is some madman ! 



342 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LENT. 

A barbarian, 
Bred in a savage roughness. 

SPART. 

Well, I am here, 
Among these beasts of Rome, a spectacle. 
This is the temple, where they mock the Gods 
With human butchery, — Most grand and glorious 
Of structure and device ! — It should have been a cave, 
Some foul and midnight pit, or den of bones, 
Where murder best might veil himself from sight. — 
Women and children, too, to see men die, 
And clap their hands at every stab ! This is 
The boastful excellence of Rome ! I thank the Gods 
There are Barbarians. 

CRASS. 

Now by Jupiter, 
The rogue speaks well — But Romans must be pleased — 
Sirrah, — (Comes down center.) 

SPART. 

Roman ! 

CRASS. 

Most impudently bold. 
I did mistake him. Prepare thyself. 

SPART. 

I am ready, 
As ready to die, as thou to see me die. 
Where is the opponent ? Of what nation comes 
The man that I must kill? 



THE GLADIATOR 343 

CRASS. 

What matters it ? 

SPART. 

Much, very much. Bring me some base ally 
Of Roman rapine, or, if ye can, a Roman: — 
I will not grieve to slay him. 

CRASS. 

Faith, I like 
This fearless taunting, and will sound it further. 
Thy foe shall be a Spaniard. 

SPART. 

Alas, I should 
Bethink me of his country, as of mine, 
Ruined and harried by our common foe; 
His kinsmen slain, his wife and children sold, 
And nothing left of all his country's greatness, 
Save groans and curses on the conquerors. 

CRASS. 

A Carthaginian. 

SPART. 

What, a Carthaginian? 
A relic of that noble tribe, that ne'er 
Would call Rome friend, and perished rather than 
Become Rome's vassal? I could not fight with him: 
We should drop swords, and recollect together, 
As brothers, how the Punic steel had smote, 
Of yore, to Rome's chill'd heart; yea, how Rome 
quaked, 



344 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

How shook her proud sons, when the African 
Burst from the sea, like to its mightiest surge, 
Swept your vain shores, and swallow'd up your armies! 
How, when his weapons, gored with consular blood, 
Waved o'er your towns, your bucklered boasters fled, 
Or shook, like aguish boys, and wept and prayed: — 
Yea, feared to die, and wept and prayed. 

LENT. 

< Peace, villain. > 

CRASS. 

Strike him not, Lentulus. The prattler knows 
There's scarce a man of the Punic stock left living, 
To boast of these mishaps. — Thy adversary 
Is a brave Gaul. 

SPART. 

Why there again! The name 
Speaks of Rome's shame. Name but a Gaul, and I 
Bethink me of the Tiber running blood, 
His tributaries choked with knightly corses; 
Of Rome in ashes, and of Brennus laughing 
At the starved cravens in the Capitol. 

CRASS. 

Sirrah, no more. 

Be but thy sword as biting as thy tongue, 

And I'll assure thee victory. — Bring in 

The Gaul. Use thy best skill, if skill thou hast, 

Or I'll not lay an obolus on thy life. — 

(A Gallic Gladiator is brought in.) 
Clear the Arena (Ascends chair again). 



THE GLADIATOR 345 

SPART. 

I will fight with him ; 
But give me to spare his life. 

CRASS. 

That privilege 
Rests with the people. Remember thy oath. — Sound, 
trumpets. 

{A flourish.) 

SPART. 

Brother — 

CRASS. 

No words; but do thy best. < He'll spit thee. > 

{They fight. The Gaul is disarmed, and thrown on his 

knees. Spartacus looks to the people.) 
Thine oath ! Strike, < villain ! > Hah ! 
(Spartacus kills the Gaul.) 

Why that was bravely done. 

SPART. 

Well, I have done it. Let me go hence. 

CRASS. 

Not so. — 
Most nobly fought! 

SPART. 

Alas, alas, poor slave ! — 

CRASS. 

Bring me another. 

{The body is taken away.) 



346 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

I will fight no more. 

CRASS. 

Sirrah! 

SPART. 

I have heart enough to die, but not to kill. 

CRASS. 

Why 'twas most capitally done! Remember 
Thy oath. 

SPART. 

I care not. I will fight no more. 

CRASS. 

Thou shalt have freedom. Nay, I'll ransome for thee, 
Thy wife and boy. 

SPART. 

Wilt thou? 

CRASS. 

By Mars, I will. 
Fight through these games ; and thou and they shall be 
Sent back to Thrace. 

SPART. 

Shall we see Thrace again? — 
Let him come on; yes, though it sick my soul, — 
Let him come on. 



THE GLADIATOR 347 

CRASS. 

Bring in the Thracian! 

{Exit Bracchius.) 

SPART. 

Thracian ? 
I will not fight a Thracian! 'Tis my countryman! 

CRASS. 

Nay, but thou shalt, and kill him too; or thou 
And they, are slaves eternally. 

SPART. 

O heaven ! 
Bring me a Spaniard, German, Carthaginian, 
Another Gaul, a Greek — any but Thracian. 

CRASS. 

None 

But this same Thracian is thy match; and truly 
If thou slay him, there will remain no other 
Worthy of thee. Thou shalt be quickly free. 

SPART. 

I will fight two — three — so they be not Thracians. 

CRASS. 

The Thracian, or eternal bondage; bondage 
For wife and child too. 

SPART. 

Wilt thou swear to free us ? 
Fight with a Thracian! — Wilt thou swear to free us? 



348 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRASS. 

Bring hither the Vindicta: With this rod, 
If thou escape this man, the praetor frees thee. 

{Reenter Bracchius, with Phasarius.) 
This is thy foe. 

PHAS. 

(Aside) What, do I dream? 

SPART. 

Alas, 
Thou art a Thracian and my countryman, 
And yet we meet as deadly foes. Forgive me. 

PHAS. 

(Aside.) This is no fantasy ! 



Thy boaster hesitates. 



CRASS. 

Observe them, Bracchius: 

PHAS. 

Thou art a Thracian? 



SPART. 

Would thou wert not. 

PHAS. 

Of the Ciconian tribe — 
A son of blue-waved Hebrus? 

SPART. 

Such I am. 
And comest thou too of the same race ? and set 
Against thy brother? 



THE GLADIATOR 349 



Thy name is Spartacus. 



PHAS. 

Brother, indeed! 

SPART. 



Where learn 't you that? 
Freemen have heard it, but not slaves. 

PHAS. 

How fares thy father ? 

SPART. 

Didst thou know him? — Dead — 
I cannot fight thee. 

PHAS. 

Hadst thou not a brother? — 

CRASS. 

Why prate these cutthroats? Come, prepare, pre- 
pare — 

SPART. 

A young, brave heart, whose steps I taught to dare 
The crags and chasms and roaring cataracts 
Of his own native hills, till he was freer 
Among them than the eagles. What art thou, 
That seem'st to know him? I would be angry with 

thee: 
These words make me look on thee as a friend. 

PHAS. 

Seem I not like Phasarius? 



35o DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

What, thou? 
A mailed warrior like a singing boy ? — 
The Romans slew him. 

PHAS. 

They enslaved him — Brother, 
Changed as I am, and from a harmless boy, 
Turned to a rough destroyer, still am I 
The selfsame fool that once thou called'st brother. 

SPART. 

Thou mock'st me. Thou! 

PHAS. 

My father, Menalon — 

SPART. 

Thy father, Menalon? 

PHAS. 

My mother — 

SPART. 

Ay, thy mother? 



PHAS. 



Laodice. 



SPART. 

My brother! 

CRASS. 

What mean these rogues, that they have dropped 

their swords, 
And fain, like friends, about each other's necks? 



THE GLADIATOR 351 

What ho, ye slaves, give o'er this timeless juggling: 
Take up your swords, and look ye to the signal. 

SPART. 

I do believe the gods have given me o'er 
To some new madness: First, I find in Rome, 
Where naught I looked for but despair, my wife 
And then my brother ! 

<CRASS. 

Villains! 

SPART. 

But I am sorry 
To find thee here, Phasarius. > 

LENT. 

< Whining miscreant, > 
Why mark'st thou not the praetor? 



Let the trumpet sound. 



CRASS. 

< Rogues, prepare. > 

SPART. 

Bring me my adversary. 



CRASS. 

Thou hast him there. 

SPART. 

What he? This is my brother. 
You would not have me fight with him ! 



352 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRASS. 



His brother? 



PHAS. 

'Tis true, most excellent praetor. 

CRASS. 

This is too strange for truth. 



Now, by Hercules, 



LENT. 

Ye cogging rogues, 
Think ye to balk us thus ? 

<BRAC. 

Conspiracy ! 
Shameful collusion ! Out on you, Phasarius, 
You're not afeard now? Out, ye cheating villain. > 

PHAS. 

Hear me, good praetor — 

CRASS. 

< Rogues > , prepare yourselves. 
This is a most evident knavery, to 'scape 
From one another. — Brothers indeed! — Prepare; 
Take up your arms. 

SPART. 

Foul Roman — 

CRASS. 

Bring me in 
The guarding cohort: (An Officer goes out.) I'll have 

them cut to pieces, 
If they refuse the battle. — Brothers indeed! 



THE GLADIATOR 353 



SPART. 

Thou hard, unnatural man — 

PHAS. 

Patience, brother — 

SPART. 

Let them come in — We are armed. — 

CRASS. 

Most strange and insolent contumacy ! 

PHAS. 

{Aside.) 'Tis something sudden — and in Rome! — 
Peace brother. — 

SPART. 

We will resist them, armed as we are. 
Can we not die? 

PHAS. 

Most worthy praetor, pardon. 
Grant us a word together, and we are ready. 

CRASS. 

Fine knavery! I did almost suspect 

Yon cutthroat for a coward — that 'twas skill alone 

Gave him his courage, which he fear'd to try 

With that more skilful savage. For the barbarian, 

His soul is made of contrariety. 



J 



354 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHAS. 

(Apart to Spart.) I know them all — This thing was 

hatch 'd before. — 
They wait without, 

Circled by cohorts, but all arm'd for combat. 
Let me but raise the cry of Freedom to them, 
And each man strikes his Roman to the earth. 

SPART. 

The slaves of Lentulus — they will strike too: 
Let us but reach them, and they rise with us. — 

PHAS. 

One moment, princely praetor. 

CRASS. 

Not an instant. 
What, shall our shows wait on the time and pleasure 
Of our base bondmen ? Sound the trumpets there — 
What, treachery, ho ! Call in the soldiers ! — 

PHAS. 

Freedom 
For gladiators ! 

SPART. 

Death to all their masters! — 

CRASS. 

Treachery ! — 

SPART. 

Death to the Roman fiends, that make their mirth 
Out of the groans of bleeding misery! 



THE GLADIATOR 355 

Ho, slaves, arise ! it is your hour to kill ! 
Kill and spare not — For wrath and liberty ! — 
Freedom for bondmen — freedom and revenge ! — 
{Shouts and trumpets — The guards and gladiators rush 
and engage in combat, as the curtain falls.) 

END OF ACT II. 



ACT III 

SCENE I. 1 A room in Crassus's house. Enter 
Crassus, Jovius, Lentulus, Bracchius, Mummius. 

<CRASS. 

Incredible! What, fight a consular army? 
Or look one in the face? 

jov. 

So says the courier. 
'Tis sworn, that half the slaves of Italy 
Are flocking to his banner. 



Fight Cneus Lentulus 



CRASS. 

Fight a consul ! 



jov. 

'Tis not so much 
To one who has already beat a proconsul. 
You'll not doubt that? nor that these madman slaves, 
Led by this whirlwind slayer — 

1 There is a query in Bird's handwriting "whether to restore the 
beginning of this scene or some part of it?" It seems that Dr. 
Bird submitted the MS. of The Gladiator to Edwin Forrest for 
revision, who no doubt suggested many of the cuts indicated. 

356 



THE GLADIATOR 357 

LENT. 

My precious Thracian ! — 
jov. 



juv. 

Have vanquished severally, and in pitched battles, 
Three praetors of the provinces. 

CRASS. 

Shame upon them ! 
Sneers for their lives, contempt for epitaphs ! 
Beaten by slaves! — I warrant me, by mine — 
Two thousand costly and ungrateful villains : — 
I'll hang them, every man. — Beaten by slaves, 
Gross, starving, unarmed slaves! 



jov. 

Not now unarmed . 
Each rogue has got a Roman harness on, 
Filched from the carcass of a Roman veteran. 
Not starving neither, whilst every day they sack 
Some camp or city — pouncing sudden down, 
Like vultures, from their hills upon our troops. 

CRASS. 

Scandalous, scandalous! Slaves, wretched slaves, 
Led by a slave too ! 

LENT. 

Still my precious Thracian ! 

CRASS. 

A scurvy gladiator, with no brains; 
An ignorant savage. — 



358 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

jov. 

Come, give the rogue his due: 
He has more brains than all our generals, 
For he has beaten them; that's a soldier's proof. 
This Spartacus, so late a bondman, has 
A soul for master; though a shepherd bred, 
He has fought battles, ay, and led men too, — 
Some mountain malcontents in his own land, — 
'Gainst Roman conquerors; and, by the faith 
Of honesty, for honest I will be, 
In courage, stratagem, resource, exploits, 
He shows a good commander. He has formed, 
Out of this slavish, ragged scum, an army; 
Arms it and feeds it at his foeman's cost, 
Recruits it in his foeman's territory; 
Which foe is renowned Rome, resistless Rome, 
Rome the great head and empress of the world ! 
Is he not then a general? 

CRASS. 

I grant you, 
The rogue is not a common one ; but still 
A slave. And much it shames me that the senate 
Finds me no worthier enemy ; whom to conquer, 
Wins neither spoil nor honour. 

jov. 

No spoil indeed, 
Unless you count their arms and bodies such; 
But honour enough to him that beats the vanquisher 
Of some half score commanders : There's your honour. 
Come, stir these centuries: My old bones are aching 
For one more battering, ere they fall to dust. 



THE GLADIATOR 359 

The reprobates must be put down, that's certain, 
And by yourself, or Pompey.> 

CRASS. 

Now the gods rest him ! 
Is there no trouble can befal the state, 
But men must cry for Pompey? As if Rome 
Had whelped no other fit to do her service. 
< Still is it Pompey, great and valiant Pompey, 
Must all our state thorns conjure into laurels. — 
Well, Crassus is not Pompey, but may serve 
For the besom. 

jov. 
What, a besom? 

CRASS. 

Ay, to sweep away 
This filthy blush out of Rome's cheek. > — These 

varlets, 
These fooled lanistce, that have trained slaves up 
To fight their masters, shall to camp with me, 
And of the evils they have caused, partake. 

LENT. 

I am willing. 

I'll kill my Thracian, though he be a general. 

BRACH. 

It matters not how soon I am knock'd o' the head. 
I have not now a gladiator left. — 
The rogues have ruined me. 



360 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRASS. 

Where is thy son? 
This knave shall march too. Have you brought the 

woman, 
The wife o' the Thracian, here to Rome? 

LENT. 

I have sent for her. 

My son has gone into Campania. 

CRASS. 

What, to Campania? Now by Jupiter, 
This fool will set me mad. 

LENT. 

I know not that. 
He went with the band of youthful volunteers, 
To the camp of Gellius, the consul. 

jov. 

Bravely done. 
That was in memory of our counselling. 
But now for action. < You remember, praetor, 
This consul prays immediate succours, being 
But ill provided, should the Gladiator, 
In contest with his colleague, prove victorious, 
As there is ground to fear; for Lentulus, 
At the last word, was at extremities. 
Being deprived too by the angry senate 
Of their authority, their mutinous troops 
But scurvily obey them. > Should the rebels 
Come near your country-seat — 



THE GLADIATOR 361 

CRASS. 

No more of that : 
The consul shall protect her. — Presently 
Bring me six legions; which, being added to 
The consular troops and the knights volunteers, 
We'll have appointed to this service. Then 
There shall be knocks enough, I promise you. 
See that these people follow, and all men 
Whose slaves have joined the rebels. It is reason, 
The rogues should kill no masters but their own. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. A plain in Campania, after the battle. 
Some corses lying about. March of trumpets. Enter, 
sumptuously armed, Spartacus, Phasarius, Crixus, 
iENOMAiis, and Attendants. 

spart. 

So, we are victors, conquerors again. 

The hotbrained boasters, that in mockery thought 

To ape the angry Scythian, and subdue us 

With whips, instead of warlike instruments, 

Lie hush'd and gory; and, despite the claim 

Of. their high honours and nobility, 

There is no slave too base to tread upon them. 

There he's a Consul. — I have known that word 

Fright men more than the name of gorgeous kings. 

Say to barbaric States, A Consul comes, 

A Roman Consul, and their preparation 

Of war or welcome, speaks a demigod. 

And yet lies he on the opprobrious earth, 

A palmy Consul, by a slave's hand slain, 



362 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

No nobler than his horse — a thing to 
Glut the starved hyena's maw. l 



Must lie beside him. 



PHAS. 

Ay — and there's another 



SPART. 

Speak you of Gellius? 

PHAS. 

Ay, marry. I'll fight now nothing less than consuls. 
There is another of them, and I say, 
Another battle and another victory. 

CRIX. 

'Tis but to will, and we have won it. 

SPART. 

Ay; 
But not today. Our* medly bands have earned 
Their armour, and are weary. — 'Tis full six leagues 
To Gellius' camp. 

CRIX. 

My Germans will not fear it. 

SPART. 

It cannot be, and must not. 

CRIX. 

Must not, Spartacus? 

1 The original reading, struck out in the MS., was, — 

" — a thing to rot 
In a hyena's paunch." 

The reading I have adopted is written in a hand resembling 
Forrest's, in pencil, and is probably his suggestion. 



THE GLADIATOR 363 

SPART. 

Ay, man, I say so: this thing must not be. 
When ye were few, with one consent, ye chose me 
Your leader, with each man an oath to yield 
To me sole guidance. This was little honour, 
To be the chief of fourscore fugitives, 
And none would have it, save myself. I took it, 
And ye have prospered. Under my authority, 
In a few days your ranks have been swell'd up 
To fearful thousands ; and from a band of slaves, 
Skulking in caves, you have become an army 
Can fight a Roman Consul. This is proof, 
I have deserved obedience; and therefore, 
I still command it. 

CRIX. 

And my countrymen 
Myself have made their leader; and they bid me 
Lead them to Gellius. 

SPART. 

We are but one army, 
With but one object, howsoe'er our ranks 
Are filled with various nations. We are slaves, 
All of us slaves, contesting for our freedom; 
And so far free, that we have arms and kill ; 
No further. We have yet to cut our way 
Out of this tyrant empire ; which to do, 
We must destroy more armies, that are gathering 
To hem us in. We do not fight for conquest, 
But conquer for our liberties; and they 
Are lost by rashness. Let us rest our troops, 
And think of Gellius on the morrow. 



364 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRIX. 

Today, today, 

Ere he have rallied this fight's fugitives. 

SPART. 

The thousands that are crowding to our lines 
Will, by the dawn, have trebled all his gain. 

CRIX. 

I will beat him with the Germans alone. 

SPART. 

You shall not; 

I am your general, and forbid you. 

CRIX. 

Thracian, 
I was a slave, but am not now. 

PHAS. 

Brother Crixus, 

On second thoughts, 'tis better put this off, 

According as the general commands. 

CRIX. 

I am sole leader of my countrymen. 

PHAS. 

Sirrah, thou art a mutineer. — 

SPART. 

Peace, brother. — 

PHAS. 

Defy the general ! If one beggar's rogue 
Of all his Germans dare to leave the lines, 
I'll have him spitted like a cur. 



THE GLADIATOR 365 

SPART. 

Peace, brother. 
Contention will harm worse than this partition. 
German, thou hast thy wish: depart in peace, 
But without hope of succour, if the Roman 
Prevail above thee. 

PHAS. 

Pray the gods he do! 
<And thwack them till they are skinless, all. 
Base rascals 
And mutineers ! > 

SPART. 

Take all thy countrymen, 
Or all that wish to follow thee. 

(Exit Crixus.) 

PHAS. 

Rank mutiny ! 
Why did you let him go? 

SPART. 

To teach him, brother, 
Him and some others of our lieutenants, 
(For we are growing mad upon success,) 
An humbling lesson. A defeat were now 
Better than victory; and, in his Germans, 
We best can bear it. 

PHAS. 

Let them go, and hang; 
They are all villanous hotheads, and presumptuous 



366 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Beyond all tolerance. And, to punish them, 
They shall not share with us the fame and spoil 
Of the sack'd city. 

SPART. 

Brother, I think thou art 
Almost as madbrained as the rest. 

PHAS. 

I have 
A kind of ardour, that, for aught I know, 
May be a lunacy. But this is clear: 
Rome is a city; cities may be sack'd; 
So Rome may be. 

SPART. 

A city, that the world 
Looks frighted at, even in her sleep of peace, 
As gazers look at sleeping lions. I told 
This German fool, we did not fight for conquest, 
But for a passport to our several homes. 
What care we then to waste our vigour on 
The gates of f ortressed cities ? 

PHAS. 

But this city — 

SPART. 

Is as impregnable as the storm-arm'd sea. 
Why should we talk of it ? Great Mithridates, 
Though populous Asia followed at his back, 
Should, were his frothy hopes to point at it, 
Be laughed at for a kingly maniac. 



THE GLADIATOR 367 

What should be said of us, the mushroom warriors 
Of Roman dunghills, should our arrogance 
Mad us so far? I think, we do not fight 
To make the world talk ? 

PHAS. 

I would have you do so; 
Fight now for glory; let ambition raise you 
Among the deathless, now while fate invites you. 
Rome has no greatness, but is now employed 
In foreign climes : You have well tried yourself ; 
And consuls vanish, when your trumpet sounds. 
March on the city, and there swear to die, 
Or live its master, and you are its master. 
Think, brother, think what glorious fame were ours, 
As lasting as the eternal world, should we, 
The upturned dregs of servitude, destroy, 
As, by the inviting fates ! We may destroy, 
This lair of lions, this den of conquerors, 
This womb of heroes, whose boastings fright the earth, 
And whose ambition ( — look, Ambition!) — chains it! 

< SPART. 

This is a wild and most preposterous hope. 
Even the fierce Hannibal, with veteran troops, 
And all the towns of Italy at his feet, 
Save this alone, here paused his hopes. 

PHAS. 

Hope thou 
T' excel the vaunted African, and dare 
Beyond his daring. Hast thou not a heart 
Bigger than his, that, with a herd of slaves, 
Hast wrought as much as all his veterans ? 



368 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Smiles heaven upon thee less, which, in an hour, 
Has, from a dungeon, raised thee to an army, 
Still growing, still victorious? Do this deed, 
And live for ever. > 

SPART. 

Well, well, I'll think of it. 
Perhaps Senona's there: — Ah, would to heaven, 

Phasarius, 
I were with her now and my smiling boy, 
In Thrace again, beside our mountain cot, 
Or in those vales, where babbling Hebrus tumbles 
Along his golden sands ; and dreamt no more 
Of sacks and battles. 

PHAS. 

Whilst this city stands, 
This ne'er can be; for just so long our country 
Remains a Roman province. Tear it down, 
And you enfranchise Thrace, and half the world. 

SPART. 

We'll think of this again, when we are stronger, 

And when we have Senona sent to us. 

Meanwhile we must the final effort make 

To ransome her. < Did you secure a guide, 

To lead us through the mountains ? I have seen 

The camp most strongly guarded, and fear not 

To trust it with the trusty ^nomaiis. 

When the tired troops have slept an hour, I'll order 

To bring them after us, to see indeed 

How we may end, what Crixus may begin, 

Disastrously for him, on Gellius, 

In the confusion of the Consul's triumph. > 



THE GLADIATOR 369 

Pick me an hundred of our swiftest horses, 
And have them presently in wait for me. 
I shall fight better, when I know, each blow 
Strikes a protection for my family. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE III. A room in Crassus's Villa. Enter 
Julia and Florus. 

JUL. 

I am glad to see thee. This terrific din 

Of the near battle made a sparrow of me. 

I was afeard to breathe, <lest I should swallow 

Some of your horrid missiles ; for I ran 

Unto the housetop, to look on the fight. 

But the moon was more coward than myself, 

And hid her pale face in a cloud : so nothing 

I saw. But I could hear the brazen trumps, 

The conchs and cornets, the shouts and yells of fury, 

The clang of arms, and whistling in the air 

Of stones and arrows. But, come tell me now, 

My general, have you killed a foe tonight? 

FLOR. 

And won a civic crown, by saving a friend. 

JUL. 

That's good ; I am glad to hear it. > 

FLOR. 

But I am sorry 

To find you here among these fears and perils. 

I would you were in Rome. 

34 



370 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JUL. 

There is no peril. 
Have you not beaten these wild gladiators ? 
A shepherd flying from his pastures, told me, 
That Gellius had the victory, and had taken 
Or killed the insurgent, bloody Spartacus. 

FLOR. 

I know not that. 'Tis true, that we have beaten 
A band of mad rogues, that assaulted us; 
And 'tis believed, their general, Spartacus, 
Is dead upon our trenches ; for whose body 
Search is now made. But one poor prisoner, 
< I think, the only one whose life was spared, > 
Declared these troops to be but a small band 
Of mutinous runagates, that had left their leader, 
Being thereto moved by their late victory 
Over the consul Lentulus. 

JUL. 

What, Florus! 
A victory over Lentulus ? 

FLOR. 

'Tis even so: 
His army has been vanquished, himself slain 
By the late bondman. And those, who give faith 
To the assurance of our prisoner, 
Fear for our consul, should the Thracian march, 
After his mutineers, upon us now; 
Our camp being all a confused festival 
Of drunken triumph, — half our soldiers scattered 
In search of spoil and fugitives. — 



THE GLADIATOR 371 

spartacus {within) 

Guard the doors : 
Let none go out. 

FLOR. 

What voice is that ? By heaven, 
We are betrayed ! 
(Enter Spartacus, Phasarius, and others. ^Enomaiis.) 

SPART. 

<Sold, lost, and dead!> — Look to the maiden. 
< What, flourishing fool, > drop thy sword's point, or 
die. 

FLOR. 

A thousand times, ere thou, malicious rebel, 
Touch this endangered lady. 

SPART. 

Straw, I say ! 
(He disarms Florus.) 
Know I not this boy's face? 1 

FLOR. 

I think thou should 'st. 
Spare thou the lady, rich will be her ransome. 
And for myself, I know, thy deadly fury 
Grants never quarter. 

1 There are the following notes in Bird's hand, evidently in 
answer to Forrest's suggested cuts. 

"Think you had better keep these expressions particularly the 
flourishing fool and straw. They express, in a very lofty and 
furious style, the contempt which such a man as Spartacus would 
feel at finding himself resisted by a younker. " 

" The term boy's was meant as a substitute for boyish; not, as if 
asking the question of others, the face of this boy. " 



372 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



SPART. 



By the stripes not yet 
Fled from mine outraged limbs, thou art the son 
Of Lentulus the scourger ! 

PHAS. 

Ay, the same. 
Let him atone his rascal father's sins : 
Scourge him to death. 

FLOR. 

Give me a soldier's death : 
Let me die by the sword. I never scourged thee. 

SPART. 

Thou ! Miserable boy ! 

FLOR. 

And well thou knowest, 
Thou fierce and fiendish man, this tongue of mine 
Was oft thy intercessor. 

SPART. 

I do know, 
One of thyblood did give me to the scourge — 
Me, a free son of a free sire, and imaged 
After the semblance of the Only Master — 
Gave me to thongs and whips, as a poor beast, 
Till I became one. This I know; know thou, 
From that shamed hour, when first my body writhed 
Under the merciless lash, I did devote 



THE GLADIATOR 373 

The scourger and his household to the furies, 

To quick and murderous death. And thinkest thou, 

Thy whining kindness took away a pang? 

Thou art the Roman's son, and thou shalt die. 

FLOR. 

Let it be so — 

SPART. 

It shall be so. Thou seest, 
Command and dignities have not wiped out 
The memory of wrongs; and Roman blood, 
Running in rivers ever at my feet, 
Sates not the thirst for more ! — Take him away ; 
Scourge him to death. 

jul. {To Spart.) 
Thou horrible monster, spare him, 
And name whate'er thou wilt for ransome. 

SPART. 

Ransome ! 
Drachmas for stripes ! 

FLOR. 

Beseech him not, fair Julia. 
Think of thyself, or let me think for thee. 

JUL. 

He never did thee hurt. 

SPART. 

Let her be ta'en away. 



374 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FLOR. 

Let her be ransomed, and for thine own wife. 

SPART. 

Ay, so I will : 'twas e'en for that I took her. 

FLOR. 

Then may'st thou instantly exchange them. — 

SPART. 

How! 

FLOR. 

Thy wife is in the consul's camp — 

SPART. 

In the consul's camp? 

FLOR. 

There driven by the fright of her conductors. 
And thou may'st instant ransome her. — 

SPART. 

Ha, ha! 
Now does Jove smile. What, ransome her? Ay, 

ransome ; 
But with the steel. — I can almost forgive thee, 
For this good news. — Prsetor, I have thee now 
In the same trap thou set'dst for me! — What, sirrah, 
Ye have beaten my refractory lieutenant, 
The German Crixus? 

FLOR. 

Ay, I thank the gods. 



THE GLADIATOR 375 

SPART. 

And so do I ; it wins me victory, 
And puts the second consul in my hands. — ■ 
Antistheus, see these captives safely guarded. — 
Brother, the troops must now be nigh upon us. — 
Take thou the Thracian cohorts, and in secret 
Steal to the heights that overhang his rear, 
Posting a strong guard on the river. Let none 'scape, 
And let none live. Myself will force the camp, 
And drive the rioting fools upon your swords. — 
I say, spare none. 

PHAS. 

'Twere much too troublesome 
To imitate them, and build crucifixes 
For the prisoners. 

SPART. 

Let not a moment's rashness 
Bring us a limping victory. Stand fast 
Upon your post, and every rogue is dead. — 
Roman, thou shait see how I'll ransome her! 

{Exeunt) 

SCENE IV. The Tent of Gellius, the Consul 
Gellius discovered, with Scropha, Senona and her 
child, and attendants. 

GEL. 

There is no doubt, this foolish German lies. 
'Twas the main body of the rebels surely. 
No mere detachment would have impudence 
To march upon a consul. Now this victory, 



376 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Which, on the morn, I'll follow up, will change 
The tone o' the angry Senate, and restore me 
To my full rank, and, what is better, send 
The scheming Crassus empty-handed back. 
This is a man should fight in the Velabrum, 
Among the cheating mongers, and not bring 
His brains of a broker to a glorious camp. 
This woman here, the wife o' the Gladiator, 
That cutthroat caitiff — 

SENO. 

Why dost thou slander him ? 
Has he not fought a consul ? 

GEL. 

Pr'ythee, be silent. 
He's a brave rebel, and will be renowned. — 
Now, as I said, with this same woman here, 
The Greek-brained Crassus did design some trick, 
Some scurvy plot upon the Gladiator — 
(Alarums.) 

SCROPH. 

Hark! 

GEL. 

A device of the rejoicing drunkards. — 
This thing meant Crassus, this — 

SCROPH. 

The clang increases ! 
(A great shout is heard.) 



THE GLADIATOR 377 

GEL. 

The knaves are noisy. — 

{Enter a Centurion, wounded.) 

CENT. 

Fly for your lives ! The camp is forced — 

GEL. 

What camp ? 

CENT. 

Your own. The Gladiators are upon us: 

We are surprised, and all is lost. 

(Exit.) 

GEL. 

My armour ! 
What ho, my armour! 

(Exeunt all but Senona and child.) 
Enter Spartacus, ^Enomaiis, and Gladiators. 

SPART. 1 

Victory! Ha! ha! 

Romans are sheep — search every tent — ah ! Jove ! 
I have found ye wife, aye, and have ransomed ye. 
What did you think I had deserted you? 

1 1 have followed the reading probably suggested by Forrest. 
The original lines, crossed out in the MS., are: 

"Victory! ha, ha. 
Romans are sheep. — Search every tent — Ah, Jove! 
I have found ye, wife, and in a noble hour. 
When we met last, I was a slave; and now, 

In a consul's camp, I stand a conqueror! 

"(Drop.)'* 



378 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Look, I have found you in a noble hour : 
When last we met I was a slave: and now 
In a Consul's camp I stand a conqueror! 

(Curtain.) 



END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV 

< SCENE I. 1 The Camp of Crassus. Enter 
Crassus, Mummius, Jovius, Lentulus, Bracchius, 
and Attendants. 

CRASS. 

And Gellius beaten too? both consuls beaten? 
This is some demigod that hath ta'en man's shape. 
To whip us for our sins. — Both consuls beaten? 
I would I had those Macedonian legions. 

jov. 

Have them thou shalt; ay, and the Spanish too: 
The senate, in their terror, (for the victories 
Of this great savage now add fright to shame,) 
Bid Pompey and Lucullus, with their troops, 
Instant embark for Rome. 

CRASS. 

Why should they send 
For Pompey too? — Perhaps it may be better. — 
See that the fugitives from the consular camps 
Be decimated, and so punished. The cowards should 
Be slain by duplates rather than by tithes: 
I'll make example of them. — Jovius, 

1 This scene is struck out in the MS. and, according to a note in 
Bird's handwriting, was "omitted in the representation. " 

379 



380 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Lay not this consul near my villa ? I would not 
My niece should come to harm ; and it is horrid 
To think her in the hands of the barbarians. 

jov. 
I am sorry, praetor — 

CRASS. 

What, man, is it so? 

jov. 
A herdsman, fled that night from the estate, 
Just on the eve of battle, saw the house 
Beset by numerous slaves. — 

CRASS. 

The gods be with her: 
I loved her well. — Sirrah, where is that woman, 
I bade thee bring me? 



But on the road. 



LENT. 

Not yet reached the camp, 



CRASS. 

Let her be hastened hither. 
I did intend to use her as a check 
On the uxorious chief. Now shall she ransome 
My Julia from him. — Where lies the enemy? 

jov. 
He is advancing on us. 

CRASS. 

What, advancing? 



THE GLADIATOR 381 



jov. 

With countless multitudes at his heels. — 



Intrench, intrench. 



CRASS. 

What! come, 



jov. 

Rather march out to meet him. 
Shall it be said, that Crassus, the lieutenant 
Of valiant Sylla, hid behind a trench, 
When bondmen menaced him ? 

CRASS. 

Shall it be said, 
Crassus, the praetor, like a hair-brained fool, 
Helped these same bondmen to a victory ? 
Spear me these cowards; and intrench, I say. — 
What, sirrah? 

{Enter a Messenger, who speaks with Jovius.) 

jov. 

Happy tidings ! Marcus Lucullus 
Hath landed his army at Brundisium; — 

CRASS. 

The gods be thank'd. — 

jov. 

And legion 'd Pompey too 
At Ostia. 



382 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRASS. 

Still thanks. Let messengers 
Be sent o' the instant to both generals, 
Praying them, as they love the gods and Rome, 
Their march to hasten. 

(Exit Messenger.) 
Good centurion, 
I will employ thee in a difficult office, 
Wherein thou may'st the state and me do service. 

jov. 
Let it be honest then and soldier-like. 

CRASS. 

So it shall be. I'll have thee an ambassador 

To this mad Thracian, to propose a ransome 

For my unhappy niece, if niece I have; 

Or to exchange for her his wife and brat, 

Now in our hands. If she be living, have her 

At any ransome ; stick not at the sum. — 

And hark ye, use your eyes and wisdom well. 

Look me out, as a soldier, what 'twould profit 

A soldier to have known; and if thou find'st 

A man among his officers to be bribed 

To any treason may advantage us, 

Make him what gain thou wilt. — But see thou bring 

My Julia with thee. — If thou find'st a man, 

That may be bought, at any price, to murder 

The Thracian, buy him for that act. 

jov. 

Not I: 
No foul and dastard blows i' the back. 



THE GLADIATOR 383 

CRASS. 

Ay, none 
For honest enemies ; but felon foes 

E'en crush feloniously. — Away: heaven speed thee. 

Kill we the chief, and I will end the war, 

Ere Pompey comes to share with me the honour. 

{Exeunt.) 



ACT IV 

SCENE I. The Camp of Spartacus. Enter Sen- 
ona, Julia, Florus, and ^Enomaiis. 

seno. 

Weep not, poor lady. — 

JUL. 

Why bid'st thou me not weep? 
Hadst thou no tears, when thou didst find thyself 
The slave of strangers? Yes, thou hadst, although 
In bond of the merciful, who were never used 
To aught but gentleness with woman. Yet me, 
The lily-cradled daughter of great nobles, 
Brought to the slavish * thrall of slaves, exposed 
To all their brutal cruelty, thou bid'st 
To weep no more. 

seno. 

It is thy fright, that conjures 
These shapes of danger. Thou art here as safe 
As woman may be in a troubled camp. 
Thou art no slave; but, I am sure, art held 
To timely ransome. Pray be comforted: — 
I know, thou art safe. 

1 There is a query in Bird's hand, — "Shall I substitute vile, 
odious, degrading, or some other word?" 

384 



THE GLADIATOR 385 

JUL. 

I have, I know, that safety 
That may be found in den of wolves or bears. — 
Would I had died or e'er my fate had thrust me 
Among these dreadful murderers. 

SENO. 

They are such 
To none my husband favours. 

JUL. 

Is not he 
As fierce and pitiless as the rest, who seeks 
To venge his wrongs upon the innocent ? 
He that has madly doomed that hapless captive 
His father's crime in blood to expiate? 

SENO. 

He has not doomed him; nay, if he said so, 
It was in wrath; and he will pardon him. 
The heart that throbs beneath his bloody mail, 
Can melt to pity quickly as thine own. 
I think, he'll free him; for thyself, I know, 
Thou art protected. 

JUL. 

Am I from his brother, 
The insolent Phasarius? — Heard I not 
What claim that villain made to me? Alas, 
Thou art a woman, and can pity me. 

SENO. 

Thine ears deceived thee; did they not, ^Enomaiis? 



386 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JENO. 

I think so, lady. 

SENO. 

Did not this argument 
Point to some claim of war? 

JENO. 

A bold proposal 
Made by Phasarius, by the chief denied : 
This was their argument. 

(Enter Spartacus.) 

JUL. 

Alas, behold 
How frowns the angry fury on his face ! 
Bodes this no ill to Florus or to me? 

SENO. 

What is the matter, husband, that you look 
So sad and heavy? 

SPART. 

Sad and heavy, am I ? — 
(Aside.) And shall I, for this face of snow provoke 
A threatening ruin ? Out of foolish pity 
For one that loves me not, drive from my heart, 
The heart that loves me well ? 

SENO. 

What say'st thou, Spartacus? 



THE GLADIATOR 387 

SPART. 

{Aside.) To save her girlish body from the shame, 
Her baby bosom from the pang, — to rescue 
From a short dream of sorrow, one young fool 
Out of the million millions of the mourning, 
Kill mine own coming glory and the hopes 
Of a wrong 'd world? 

SENO. 

I fear me, thou art angry. 

SPART. 

Hark ye, my girl — that fool that trembles yonder — 

SENO. 

I pity her. 

SPART. 

Dost thou indeed? And art thou 
Assured she is worth thy pity? Were the world 
A jot the worse, were she removed from it? 

SENO. 

Alas, you will not harm her? She has indeed 
A kind and foolish heart. 

SPART. 

Has she indeed ? 
Well, she shall to her father. 

SENO. 

She has none. 



388 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

What, wife, an orphan? Now the incensed heaven 
Smite my hard heart ! A poor and feeble child 
Left struggling fatherless in the world, and I 
Consent to wrong her! 

SENO. 

What is't you say? 

SPART. 

Not I, 
Though forty thousand unjust brothers storm'd. — 
One day mine own child will be fatherless. — 
We'll ransome her. 

SENO. 

I'm glad to hear you say so. 

spart. (To Julia.) 

What, foolish maid, why dost thou weep? Come, 

smile, 
I'll send thee to the praetor — and the boy too. — 
I think 'twould break her heart to kill him. — . 

(Enter Phasarius.) 

Brother — 
Brother, I hope thou hast forgot this folly. 

PHAS. 

I claim the captive. 

SPART. 

Thou shalt have a thousand; 



But not these twain. 



THE GLADIATOR 389 

PHAS. 

I care not for the boy. 
The girl is mine, — captured by mine own hands; 
Therefore mine own. 

FLOR. 

Base caitiff ! 

SPART. 

Sirrah, begone. — 

PHAS. 

Deny me her, and, by the fates, thou art 
No longer brother of mine. 'Twas I that helped thee 
To this high station ; and the troops thou rulest, 
Are but my lending ; for that hour I leave thee, 
They leave thee to. 

SPART. 

Come, — look me in the face, 
And let me see how bad desires have changed thee. 

PHAS. 

I claim the captive. 

SPART. 

Set thine eye on her: 
Lo you, she weeps, and she is fatherless. 
Thou wouldst not harm an orphan? What, I say, 
Art thou, whom I have carried in my arms 
To mountain-tops, to worship the great God, 
Art thou a man to plot a wrong and sorrow 
(And thou a man!) against a feeble orphan? 
Wilt thou now ask her? 



390 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PHAS. 

Ay. 

SPART. 

Thou art a changeling ! 
My father ne'er begot so base a heart. — 
Brother, I do conjure thee, for I love thee, 
Forget this thing. 

PHAS. 

Farewell. 

SPART. 

Thou wilt not go? 

PHAS. 

Ay, by great Jove, I will. Play thou the tyrant 
On those that follow thee. 

SPART. 

My younger brother: — 
Nay, I'll not call thee such, — but a hot fool 
And heartless enemy. — 

PHAS. 

Call what thou wilt: 
I am a man not to be mock'd and wrong'd, 
Nor flouted in my counsels. I did ask you, 
Now that you had the wind of the fooled praetor, 
Now when rich Rome is emptied by her levies, 
Now when the eager troops cry all, for Rome, 
To march upon it, ere the joining armies 
Of Pompey and Lucullus should prevent you. 



THE GLADIATOR 391 

This I did ask, and this you did deny, 
Though, by a former promise, pledged thereto. 

SPART. 

I promised not. 

PHAS. 

By heaven, you did — when stronger. 
This you refuse; and when, forgiving this, 
I ask my captive, you deny me her, 
With many a sharp and contumelious word, 
Such as is fitter for a dog than me. 

SPART. 

Forgive me, if my anger used such shame; 
I knew not what I said. 

PHAS. 

March then to Rome. 

SPART. 

It cannot be. We should but set us down 
Under her walls, where the three generals, 
Ere we could force the gates, would hedge us in. 
We cannot stand against them all even here ; 
But, when in Sicily, are invincible. 

PHAS. 

Rome, or the captive: no more Sicily. 

SPART. 

To Sicily: 

There, by the ocean fenced, rouse up and gather 

The remnants of those tribes by Rome destroyed, 



392 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Invited to their vengeance. Then will come, 

Arm'd with retributive and murderous hate, 

The sons of fiery Afric, — Carthaginians 

Out of their caves, Numidians from their deserts; 

The Gaul, the Spaniard, the Sardinian; 

The hordes of Thessaly, Thrace, and Macedon, 

And swarming Asia ; — all at last assembled 

In vengeful union 'gainst this hell of Rome. 

Then may we crush, but now we crush ourselves. 

Let us to Sicily. 

PHAS. 

Those that will. Farewell. 

SPART. 

Will you desert me ? 

PHAS. 

I did think thee meant 
For the most godlike enterprise of earth : 
Thou fail'st. Farewell; protect thyself. 



Remember Crixus. 



SPART. 

Mad boy, 



PHAS. 

And his thousand Germans! 
I go with Gauls and Thracians, and fifty thousand. - 
A Roman girl was worth this coil ! — Farewell : 
Learn to be juster. 

(Exit.) 



THE GLADIATOR 393 

SPART. 

Gone! Alas, alas, 
Am I unjust ? I did not think my brother 
Could e'er desert me. 

/ENO. 

Spartacus — 

SPART. 

iEnomaiis, 
Dost thou remain ? Why dost thou stay with me ? 

,ENO. 

For that I know thee wiser than thy brother. 
I will stand, fight, or die with thee. But look; 
If thou speak not, the army to a man, 
Will follow this young madman. 

SPART. 

Mad and ungrateful all ! Will none remain ? 

SENO. 

Beseech you, speak with them, my honoured husband. 

SPART. 

And he endanger'd thee too! By the heavens, 
I'll ne'er forgive him. — Nay, go to your couch. 
I'll speak with them. They will not all desert me. 

{Exeunt.) 



394 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SCENE II. The Camp of Crassus. Enter Crassus 
and Lentulus. 

CRASS. 

Thy son was kill'd then ? I am sorry for him. 
I heard, he bore him soldier-like, and I, 
Upon this promise, did intend him favour. 

LENT. 

I know not that he certainly was killed ; 
But, I thank Jove, he did not fly his post. 

Enter Bracchius. 

crass. 

What of the enemy ? does he still approach ? 

BRAC. 

No, he is flying. 

LENT. 

Flying! thou art mad. 

BRAC. 

That may be, for my slaves have ruined me. 
Why should brains stick where gold will not? 

CRASS. 

Come, sirrah, 
What didst thou mean by saying the foe fled ? 
< How flies he ? 



THE GLADIATOR 395 



BRAC. 



As a hound, that having coursed 
A stinking brock, upon a sudden turns, 
To chase a noble stag. — Ourselves the badger, 
And Rome the worthier quarry. 

CRASS. 

Tedious fool, > 
What dost thou mean ? 

BRAC. 

That the fierce Gladiators 
Instead of dinging us, as seemed designed, 
Are now upon the highway to the city. 

CRASS. 

To Rome? 

BRAC. 

Yes, flying to Rome. 

CRASS. 

Presumptuous fools ! 
< Now may we build a forest of crucifixes. 
Bid the men cast away their picks, and arm. > 
We'll after them. 

BRAC. 

I think there's some division 

Among the leaders; for the herds afoot, 

March in disorder. 



396 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CRASS. 

Separated ! Jove, 
I thank thee for this boon. — Another Crixus! 
To arms, I say. Send out the cavalry, 
<To gain their flanks and front, letting them get 
Beyond the leader's camp. > — This is a triumph. — 
To arms, I say. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE III. The Camp of Spartacus. Enter 
Spartacus and ^nomaiis. 

SPART. 

Seven thousand true? A handful, but enough, 
Being staunch and prudent, for the enterprise. — 
Desert me! Well, well, well. — Among the hills 
Are many paths that may be safely trod ; 
Whereby we'll gain the sea, and so pass o'er 
To safer Sicily. — Perhaps I spoke 
Too roughly, — but no matter. — Did you send 
To hire the shipping of those pirates? Well. — 
And all prepared to march at nightfall? — yEnomaiis, 
Do you not think they'll beat him ? 

/ENO. 

I doubt it not ; 
Phasarius being a soldier, but no leader. 

< SPART. 

An excellent leader, but that he is rash. 

.ENO. 

That is the misery. He will fight you hotly 
An army of lions ; but a troop of foxes 



THE GLADIATOR 397 

May easily beat him. Now the praetor's brain 
Is all o' the fox's colour. > 

SPART. 

Well, I care not: 
We will to Rhegium. — Think you, ^Enomaiis, 
I might not, while the praetor steals upon him, 
Steal on the praetor, and so save the army? 
What say'st thou? 

iENO. 

Hang them, no. This brings Lucullus 
On our seven thousand. Let the mutineers 
Look to themselves. 

SPART. 

Right, very right, right, ^nomaiis. 
Let them look to themselves. He did desert me; 
My father's son deserted me, and left me 
Circled by foes. I say, 'tis very right. 
< He shall no help from me; not though they beat 

him 
An hundred times; no, no, no help from me. > 

^NO. 

Lo you, a messenger! 

SPART. 

From Phasarius! — 
Perhaps he is sorry. — 

Enter Jovius. 



398 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



From Crassus. 



,ENO. 

Chief, an embassy 



SPART. 

And what would Crassus with the Gladiator, 
The poor base slave, and fugitive, Spartacus? 
Speak, Roman : wherefore does thy master send 
Thy gray hairs to the cutthroat's camp? 

JOV. 

Brave rebel, — 

SPART. 

Why that's a better name than a rogue or bondman; 
But, in this camp, I am call'd general. 

JOV. 

Brave general; for, though a rogue and bondman, 
As you have said, I'll still allow you general, 
As he that beats a consul surely is, — 

SPART. 

Say two, — two consuls; and to that e'en add 
A proconsul, three praetors, and some generals. 

JOV. 

Why 'tis no more than true. — Are you a Thracian? 

SPART. 

Ay. 

JOV. 

There is something in the air of Thrace 
Breeds valour up as rank as grass. 'Tis pity 
You are a barbarian. 



THE GLADIATOR 399 



SPART. 

Wherefore ? 

jov. 

Had you been born 
A Roman, you had won by this a triumph. 

SPART. 

I thank the gods I am barbarian; 

For I can better teach the grace-begot 

And heaven-supported masters of the earth, 

How a mere dweller of a desert rock 

Can bow their crown'd heads to his chariot wheels. 

Man is heaven's work, and beggar's brats may 'herit 

A soul to mount them up the steeps of fortune, 

With regal necks to be their stepping-blocks. — 

But come, what is thy message? 

JOV. 

Julia, niece 
O' the prastor, is thy captive. 

SPART. 

Ay. 

jov. 

For whom 
Is offered in exchange thy wife, Senona, 
And thy young boy. 

SPART. 

Tell thou the praetor, Roman, 
The Thracian's wife is ransomed. 



400 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

jov. 

How is that? 

SPART. 

What ho, Senona! 

(Senona appears with the child at a tent door.) 
Lo, she stands before you, 
Ransomed, and by the steel, from out the camp 
Of slaughtered Gellius. 

{Exit Senona.) 

jov. 

This is sorcery! — 
But name a ransome for the general's niece. 

SPART. 

Have I not now the praetor on the hip ? 

He would, in his extremity, have made 

My wife his buckler of defence ; perhaps 

Have doomed her to the scourge ! But this is Roman. 

Now the barbarian is instructed. Look, 

I hold the praetor by the heart ; and he 

Shall feel how tightly grip barbarian fingers. 

jov. 

Men do not war on women. Name her ransome. 

SPART. 

Men do not war on women! Look you: 
One day I clomb upon the ridgy top 
Of the cloud-piercing Haemus, where, among 
The eagles and the thunders, from that height, 
I look'd upon the world — or, far as where, 



THE GLADIATOR 401 

Wrestling with storms, the gloomy Euxine chafed 
On his recoiling shores ; and where dim Adria 
In her blue bosom quenched the fiery sphere. 
Between those surges lay a land, might once 
Have served for paradise, but Rome had made it 
A Tartarus. — In my green youth I look'd 
From the same frosty peak, where now I stood, 
And then beheld the glory of those lands, 
Where peace was tinkling on the shepherd's bell 
And singing with the reapers ; < or beneath 
The shade of thatch eaves, smiled with grey old men, 
And with their children laughed along the green. > 
Since that glad day, Rome's conquerors had past 
With withering armies there, and all was changed: 
Peace had departed; howling war was there, 
Cheered on by Roman hunters: then, methought, 
Even as I looked upon the altered scene, 
Groans echoed through the valleys, through which ran 
Rivers of blood, like smoking Phlegethons; 
Fires flashed from burning villages, and famine 
Shriek'd in the empty cornfields. Women and children , 
Robb'd of their sires and husbands, left to starve — 
These were the dwellers of the land ! — Say'st thou 
Rome wars not then on women ? 

jov. 

This is not to the matter. 

SPART. 

Now, by Jove, 
It is. These things do Romans. But the earth 
Is sick of conquerors. There is not a man, 
Not Roman, but is Rome's extremest foe; 
26 



402 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

And such am I, sworn from that hour I saw 
These sights of horror, while the gods support me, 
To wreak on Rome such havock as Rome wreaks, 
Carnage and devastation, wo and ruin. 
Why should I ransome, when I swear to slay? — 
Begone: this is my answer! 

<JOV. 

With your leave 
This prattling scares no Romans ; and these threats 
Come weakly from a chief of mutineers. 

SPART. 

Of mutineers ? 

jov. 

Ay, marry, 'tis well known, 
Your cutthroats have deserted you. Content you, 
Crassus will punish the foul traitors. 



SPART. 



Crassus ! 



jov. 

Ay, Crassus. — Hercules, how men will talk! 
Wreak wo on Rome! — I tell you, your lieutenant 
Will hang upon a cross before the morrow. 
So name your ransome, while 'tis offered you. 

SPART. 

Begone, I say. 

(Exit Jovius.) 
Alas, my ^Enomaiis, 



THE GLADIATOR 403 

Should we not strike now? Now while we might fall 
Upon their rear, and take them by surprise? 

/ENO. 

Let them be punished, castigated well, 
And they'll return to wisdom and obedience. 

SPART. 

Right, right. Let them be punished, hack'd to the 

bones : 
This will speak better than my words. Prepare 
For Rhegium. He'll return to us tomorrow. 

{Exeunt.) > 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACT V 

SCENE I. The Peninsula of Rhegium. The Camp 
of the Gladiators. Enter Spartacus and ^nomaiis. 

SPART. 

Routed and cut to pieces ! — Said I not ? 
Did I not tell them? — Utterly destroyed! 
Scattered like chaff ! — Now by the eternal fates, 
They did provoke high heaven, deserting me. — 
How many slain ? 

/ENO. 

Indeed it is not known. 

SPART. 

Many, I'm glad; I should be very glad: 
Did I not lead them ever on to victory ? 
And did they not forsake me? Wretched fools, 
This was my vengeance, yea, my best of vengeance, 
To leave them to themselves, that Roman praetors 
Might whip them for me. Art thou not rejoiced? 
Art thou not, ^Enomaiis, glad of this? 
Glad, very glad? 

<jetxo. 

I shall be, when I see 
Half of them back again. 

404 



THE GLADIATOR 405 

SPART. 

I'll decimate them: 
Even as the Romans punish, so I'll punish. — 
Ruin me all these grand and glorious hopes? 
Nay they were certainties. — An excellent army, 
That might have fought with Pompey, broke and 

ruined 
By their mad mutiny ! An excellent army 

/ENO. 

Indeed, an excellent. 

SPART. 

Foolish i^nomaiis, 
Why did'st thou stay me, when I would have saved 
them? 

;eno. 

Had this been well? Had their ingratitude 
Deserved it of thee? 

SPART. 

Ay, ingratitude. 
Did I oppress them? Did I tyrannise? > 

/ENO. 

'Tis rumoured that Phasarius fell. 

SPART. 

My brother, 
My foolish brother — why did he part from me? — 
Nay, I'll not mourn him. 



406 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JENO. 

This evil news must now 
Hasten our embarkation. The pirate ships 
Already are launching from the shore. 

SPART. 

Why now 
You are too fast. Bid them be beached again. — 

< Alas, that foolish boy ! We'll rest awhile, 
And see what fugitives may come to us. > 
Art sure Phasarius was slain ? — the pride 

Of his dead mother's heart; and, I do know, 
Though prone to anger, of a loving spirit. — 
We'll rest awhile here on this promontory. 

/ENO. 

Each moment has a peril. For these pirates 
They are most treacherous hounds, and may set sail 
Without us; and the praetor, thou know'st well, 
Is trenching us in on this peninsula. 

SPART. 

What care I for the praetor and his trenches? 

< This is a boy's trick, and a boy might meet it. > 
Trenches to stop a Thracian ! — Look you now 
What drooping slave is that? By all the gods, 
It is my brother! — But I'll not be glad. 

Lo you, how humbled, spiritless he looks! 
Where are his troops ? 

(Enter Phasarius.) 

Sirrah, why comest thou here? 
Didst thou not part from me, and take mine army? 



THE GLADIATOR 407 

Did'st thou not teach my followers mutiny, 

And lead them to destruction? Thou whipp'd fool, 

Why comest thou here? 

PHAS. 

To ask thy pardon, and to die. 

SPART. 

Couldst thou not die with those thou led'st to death, 
That men, who after should have called thee madman, 
Might not have called thee craven ? 

PHAS. 

I am no craven ; 
A wretch, I grant you, but no craven. 

SPART. 

Where are thy troops? that throng'd and valiant 

army 
Thou stol'dst from me? 



I am alone of all. 



PHAS. 

With Pluto. Why demand me? 



SPART. 

Most wretched man, 
Thou hast murder'd fifty thousand men, destroyed v 
Thy brother and thy country, and all hope 
Of the earth's disenthralment. 

PHAS. 

I have ruined 
My brother, that's enough. 



4o8 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

Ay, look, behold; 
But yestermorn, I was a conqueror, 
On the high verge and pinnacle of renown; 
Today a skulking, trembling, despised man, 
Thrust in a pit. Whose traitorous hand was it, 
Pluck'd me from my high seat, and sunk so low? 
Who did this thing, this foul, felonious thing? 

PHAS. 

Myself, that was thy brother. 

SPART. 

Ay, that was ! 

PHAS. 

Why shouldst thou stab me with thy words? O 

brother, 
Strike me with thy sharp sword, but speak no more: 
Give me to punishment, or drive me forth 
To die by Romans; but upbraid no more. 

SPART. 

Shall I forgive him? Look, he is penitent. 

/ENO. 

But he has lost them all. 

SPART. 

Ay, so he has. — 
Ask'st thou for pardon, when thou hast slain all? 
Away ! thou didst discard me from thy heart : 
I banish thee from mine. 



THE GLADIATOR 409 

PHAS. 

It is but just. 
Why should I live, when I have ruined thee? 
I should have died before. Farewell. 

SPART. 

Come back: 

I will forgive thee: nay, I have. — O brother, 

Why didst thou do this wrong? But I'll forget it. — 

Let the ships now be launched, now, ^Enomaiis; 

Now cross to Sicily. 

{Exit ^Enomaiis.) 

With these fifty thousand — 

But I've forgot it. — What, were all destroyed? 

PHAS. 

All, all. 

SPART. 

A disciplined army! — But no matter. — 
All slain upon the field? 

PHAS. 

Six thousand wretches 
Yielded them prisoners to the praetor. 

SPART. 

Well, 
He took six thousand prisoners. These will now 
Suffer a double wretchedness. 

PHAS. 

Never fear it: 
They will not. 



410 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

How is that, Phasarius? 
Did not the praetor, in his proclamations, 
Threat us with bondmen's deaths by crucifixion? 

PHAS. 

And he will keep his word — nay, he has kept it. 

SPART. 

What! 

PHAS. 

Are men beasts, that life should count no more 
Than a beast's sob? 

SPART. 

Thou fill'st my soul with terror. 
Are they condemned? All? 

PHAS. 

Executed. 

SPART. 

Horror ! 
Six thousand men, and crucified! 

PHAS. 

Crucified. 
I saw a sight last night, that turned my brain, 
And set my comrade mad. The Roman highway 
Is, each side, lined with crosses, and on each cross 
Is nailed a gladiator. — Well, 'twas night, 
When, with a single follower, I did creep 
Through the trenched army to that road, and saw 



THE GLADIATOR 411 

The executed multitude uplifted 

Upon the horrid engines. Many lived: 

Some moaned and writhed in stupid agony; 

Some howled, and prayed for death, and cursed the 

gods; 
Some turned to lunatics, and laughed at horror; 
And some with fierce and hellish strength, had torn 
Their arms free from the beams, and so had died, 
Grasping, headlong, at air. And, oh the yells, 
That rose upon the gusty sighs of night, 
And babbled hideously along the skies, 
As they were fill'd with murder! 

SPART. 

Say no more: 
This is too dreadful for man's ear. I swear 
For this to make Rome howl. What, ^Enomaiis. 

{Reenter ^Enomaiis.) 
Are the ships all afloat? 

iENO. 

And gone. 

SPART. 

What, gone? 

,ENO. 

These same perfidious pirates, with their hire, 
Have set their sails, and fled. 

SPART. 

The ocean god 
Meet them with hurricanes, sink their ships, and feed 
Sea-monsters with their corses! 



412 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

/ENO. 

All is finished: 
This is the fruit of mercy for deserters. 

SPART. 

Be that forgot. 

/ENO. 

What now remains for us, 
But to sit down and die? 



To fight the pragtor. 



Ten times our own ! 



SPART. 

I'll tell thee, what: 

,ENO. 

Though his troops outnumber 



SPART. 

Ay ; our despair will make us 
Each ten times stronger than his foe. Fill up 
This schoolboy ditch with disregarded plunder, 
And when the watchdogs sleep, like wolves, steal on 

them 
And take them by the throat. I have no fear, 
But we shall find a pathway through their camp. 
Then to Tarentum ; there we'll find us ships. 
Or, if that fail, with a despairing fury, 
Turn upon Rome, and perish there. 

(Enter Senona, with the child.) 

What now? 
Com'st thou to mourn o'er our mishaps, Senona ? 
Be not dismayed : I'll find thee safety yet. 



THE GLADIATOR 413 

SENO. 

Thou wouldst conceal these newer perils from me; 
But well I know, that every hour now brings 
A menacing cloud about thee. 

SPART. 

Clouds, ay, clouds: 
A cloud is on my path, but my ambition 
Sees glory in't : as travellers who stand 
On mountains, view upon some neighbouring peak, 
Among the mists, a figure of themselves, 
Traced in sublimer characters ; so I 
Here see the vapory image of myself, 
Distant and dim, but giantlike — I'll make 
These perils glories. 

SENO. 

And the ships have left thee? 

SPART. 

Thou art a soldier's wife, and wilt not tremble 
To share his danger. Look, through yonder camp 
Our path lies. 

SENO. 

I will walk it by thy side. 

SPART. 

Not so; for though unharmed by steel, the sight 

Of the near fray would kill thee. I have discovered 

A path almost unguarded ; where, whilst I 

Assault the Roman in his sleep, thyself 

And my war-cradled boy, with my Phasarius 

To guard thee, shall in safety pass, and join me 

After the battle. 



414 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



SENO. 

Why not lead your army 
By that unguarded path? 

SPART. 

Trust me, dear wife, 
I'll make it such for thee, but cannot have it 
Safe for an army. The surprised distraction 
Of the attack will call the guards away. 
This is the safest. 

SENO. 

Let me go with thee. 
I do not fear the horrors of the storm. 

SPART. 

It cannot be. What, brother — 

PHAS. 

Let some one else 
Be made her guard ; while I, in fight, find vengeance, 
And reparation of my faults. 

SPART. 

Wilt thou 
Refuse me this, Phasarius? 

PHAS. 

Am not I 
A rash and witless fool ? Trust not to me 
What thou so valuest. 



THE GLADIATOR 415 

SENO. 

I beseech you, hear him. 
Let me not leave you, Spartacus : my heart 
Is full of dismal and of ominous fear, 
If I do leave you now, I leave for ever. 
If I must die, let me die where thou art. 

SPART. 

Why talk'st thou now of death? I say, I'll make 
This path most safe for thee. How could I fight, 
Or play the leader in a bloody storm, 
With thy pale visage ever in my eye? 

PHAS. 

I do beseech you, make not me her guard. 

SPART. 

It must be so. And hear me now, Phasarius; 
I put into thy hands more than my soul: — 
See, my dear wife, and here my innocent boy. — 
These are the very jewels of my heart. 
Protect them for me. Be not rash; steal softly, 
With the small faithful troop I'll send with thee, 
Through glens and woods; and when the alarm is 

sounded, 
March fast but wisely. For thy life, and mine, 
Avoid all contest, shouldst thou meet a foe; 
Nay, though thou know'st thou hast advantage, fight 

not. 
Join me, with these in safety, and assure me 
No man has drawn his sword. — And now farewell. 



416 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Farewell, Senona: I pray you do not speak. — 
Thou art very safe. Farewell. 

(Exeunt Senona, child, and Phasarius.) 

mno. 

He is too rash. 

SPART. 

Rash, had I given him a command in battle; 
But will not be with them. — Rouse up the troops. 
Fill up the ditch with baggage, as I told thee. — 
< I'll see that all be schooled for this assault. > 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. Before the tent of Crassus. Enter 
Crassus, Mummius, Jovius, Lentulus and Brac- 
chius. 

CRASS. 

Now I lament me, on this overthrow 

Of the chief army of the enemy, 

I prayed for Pompey and Lucullus. If 

I end not instant, by another blow, 

The war I have so maimed, comes me a colleague 

To chouse me of my triumphs. 

jov. 

You must be quick then. 
The dawn will show you Pompey by your side; 
Or rather, dashing with a Roman scorn, 
Amongst the ruffians you have trapp'd. 



THE GLADIATOR 417 

CRASS. 

I think, 
Ourselves may do it. — And this hell-dog holds 
The girl to doom ? 

JOV. 

He says, he is instructed 
By your fore-thought intentions with his spouse. 

CRASS. 

But dost thou think he'll slay her? 

JOV. 

Not while he 
May purchase mercy with her. 

CRASS. 

Shall I take her 
Out of his camp by force? or send thee back, 
To offer mercy and receive submission ? 

JOV. 

Propose him life and liberty, and make him 
A Roman citizen. 

CRASS. 

What, a rebel slave ! 

JOV. 

In these rough, rotten times, we do not scruple 
To raise our rogues to honour. Why then blush, 
To anoint a slave, that's capable and honest? 



418 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

The genius of this Thracian, had it been 
In honourable trust display'd, had quell'd 
A score of barbarous nations; and may yet, 
Make but the man a Roman. 

CRASS. 

We will make him 
A captive first. — Were my poor Julia free! — 

(Loud alarums.) 
What is the matter? 

jov. 

The rats are out ! By Jove, 
The slaves have pass'd the trenches, and assault us ! 

CRASS. 

Thou art mad! They dare not — What, to arms, to 

arms! 

Nay, if they will, let them into the camp, 

But let not out. — To arms, to arms ! 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE III. Another part of the Roman Camp. 
Enter Crassus, Jovius, Mummius, and Lentulus. 

CRASS. 

Mischiefs and plagues, and slavish stripes disgrace 
These shameless cowards ! What, ope their ranks, and 

give 
A path to these few madmen ! Let them scape us ! 

jo v. 

Nay, they are gone, that's certain, — but will drop 
Into the jaws of Pompey. 



Follow them. 



THE GLADIATOR 419 

CRASS. 

Bid the legions 

jov. 

When the day breaks ; but not now. 

CRASS. 

Shall I let Pompey take them, and have Rome 
Laugh at my shame ? Have Pompey join the scorners, 
And mock me too? Hie thee away, good Jovius; 
Follow the Thracian; offer pardon, freedom, 
Whate'er thou wilt. Do but delay his march: 
Let him not come near Pompey — Quick, away! 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE IV. The Camp of Spartacus, among the 
hills. Enter Spartacus and ^nomaiis. 

SPART. 

Was not this well ? When desperate men contend, 
The brave will fly from them. To fight for life, 
Fights surest for a victory. Fought we well ? 
I would not give these seven thousand poor rogues, 
For a whole herd of angry Gauls. We'll win 
The highway to Tarentum yet. — Lieutenant, 
Should they not now be here? 



JENO. 



Who? 



SPART. 

Who ! Phasarius 
And his care-chosen guard — my brother and my wife. 



420 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

MNO. 

They tread a rough and tangled path. 

SPART. 

Tis true; 

And finding there more guards than I had word of, 
Their caution journeys them the slower. I 
Am almost grieved, I brought them not with me. — 
How fare the captives? Bring me to Tarentum, 
I'll send that girl unransomed to the praetor. — 
Would they were here! — Bring in the prisoner, 
And find how march the coming generals. 

(Bracchius is brought in, guarded.) 

iENO. 

This fellow was the master of thy brother. 
Question him, and then hang him, for a baser, 
More heartless master never yet struck slave. 

SPART. 

I am sick of blood. — Is not the sun yet up ? 

If they be seen — but I'll not think of that. — 

Be not afeard: hadst thou been worth a blow, 

I had not spared thee. Speak, and truly speak, 

Or thou shalt fat the kites : When looks the praetor 

For Pompey and his Spanish troops ? 

BRAC. 

He looks 
Not for, but at him. 

SPART. 

Wretch 



THE GLADIATOR 421 

BRAC. 

And so may'st thou, 
Yonder among the heights upon thy left. 

SPART. 

Wretch, if thou mock me, I will strike thee dead. 
Know I not well the praetor's craft? These eagles 
That spread their golden pinions on the hills, 
Were wing'd by Crassus thither, to affright me. 
Are they not Crassus's standards? Own me that, 
Or look tonight to sup in Acheron. 

BRAC. 

To sup on earth, then, I'll agree to this; 
But I shall lie. 

SPART. 

Rogue, answer me again: 
Are those troops Pompey's. 

BRAC. 

Ay. 

SPART. 

The gods forbid ! 
They are in motion too ! Now I begin 
To feel my desolation, and despair. 
What, ^nomaiis, send me out a scout 
To view those hill-perched foes, and quick prepare 
The army for the march. And my poor wife! 
Why did I trust her with Phasarius? 
< Send out a cunning guide to hunt the path. > 

{Exit /Enomaiis.) 



422 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Roman, if thou speak false, I'll have thee slain. — 
Where rests Lucullus ? 

BRAC. 

In no place he rests, 
Save nightly on the highroad from Tarentum. 

<SPART. 

Villain, thou liest! The gods have not so left me. 
I say, thou speak'st not true. 

BRAC. 

Well, I speak false; 
But notwithstanding, he is on that road. — 
These are the bloodiest cutthroats! — > 

SPART. 

Now, out on me, 
My heart is full of fear. The prastor on my rear, 
Lucullus, Pompey on my front and left, 
And naught but howling seas upon my right ! 
Seven thousand men against an hundred thousand ! 
If Crassus love the girl — He fears disgrace — 
'Tis not infeasible — unless, alas, 
My wife, perchance, be fain into his hands; 
Then can the maiden buy me naught but her. 

{Reenter ^Enomaiis, with Jovius.) 



/ENO. 



The Roman praetor 
Sends thee again an envoy. 



THE GLADIATOR 423 

SPART. 

Speak, centurion; 
What word sends Crassus? 

JOV. 

For the Roman lady, 
A princely ransome; for thyself, an offer 
Of mercy, pardon, Roman denization, 
And martial honour and command ; provided — 

SPART. 

Ay, provided! 

JOV. 

Thou instantly, ere Pompey leave the hills, 

Surrender up these malefactious slaves 

To whips and crosses. Therefore, most valiant 

Thracian, 
Put by the frenzy, that would fight against 
Three circling armies, and accept this boon 
Generous and great. 

SPART. 

I am unfortunate, 
Thou know'st that well; but not being Roman yet, 
I scorn the foul condition, that makes me 
To my true friends a traitor. Give them freedom, 
And they lay down their arms; but talk of crosses, 
And they have yet the arms that cut a path 
Through the proud praetor's camp. 

jov. 

Why shouldst thou care, 
Thou, who hast such a Roman soul, for these 



424 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Vile runagate rogues, who, at an opportunity, 
Thee would betray as freely as their masters ? 
Let them be hanged, and be thou made a Roman. 
Perhaps thy word may save the least offending; 
But let the scum be punished. 

SPART. 

They shall die, 
Like soldiers, on the field, or live in freedom. 
But hearken, Roman: 
I know the praetor, that he loves his niece, 
But honour more; I know, if Pompey strike 
At me one blow, the honour all is his, 
And nothing left for Crassus, but comparison 
Betwixt what Pompey does, and what he could not. 
He will not then have Pompey strike me, and 
He would have back his niece. While I lie here 
On this impregnable and forted hill, 
Pompey approaches and sits down beside him. 
Now he'll consent himself to lose the honour 
O' the hunted gladiator's overthrow, 
So Pompey wins it not. 

jov. 

That may be true, 
For Crassus loves not Pompey. But on that 
What project found you? 

SPART. 

This: Let him but wink, 
While I steal darkly to Tarentum, there 
T' embark my army. 



THE GLADIATOR 425 

jov. 

Hah! 

SPART. 

I'll find a way 
To cozen Pompey and pass by Lucullus, 
Provided he not follow at my heels. 
Gage me but this, and he shall have his niece 
Unransomed back; deny me, and by Pluto, 
Pompey alone shall gain the laurel. 

jov. 

Jove ! 
This is a mad proposal. Help you fly! 
Will you surrender, or be cut to pieces ? 

SPART. 

Bring forth the captives. 

(Julia and Florus are brought in.) 

Lo, I'll march tonight: 
If Crassus follow me, the girl shall die. 

jov. 

Art thou a savage? 

SPART. 

Ay; or if you will, 
A beast, whose nature not being fierce, the hunters 
Have toil'd and goaded into fury. Nature 
Makes fewer rogues, than misery. But yesterday, 
I had saved that maiden's blood, at cost of mine; 



426 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Now, with a cool ferocity, I doom her 
To perish like a thing abhorred, whene'er 
The praetor bids me. 

JUL. 

Out, alas, alas! 
Didst thou not swear thou wouldst not harm my life? 
Thou didst, unto thy wife. 

SPART. 

Well, speak not of it. — 
She is surely taken. — Roman, listen to me: 
South of thy camp there liest a secret path, 
Where, for a certain reason, I did send 
A party, to escape the fears of conflict. 
Have they been captured ? 

jov. 

I know not, but think so. 
Who were they? 

SPART. 

Well, they are not taken then? 

jov. 

I'll not say that. A double guard was sent, 
Under your one time master, Lentulus, 
Last night, to watch that path. 

SPART. 

I have some prisoners, 
I would exchange for them — Look, all but her. 

jov. 

But who were these? 



THE GLADIATOR 427 

SPART. 

Some women and children. Yes, 
Some helpless fools, not fit to look on battle. — 
Not that I care for them; but I'll exchange them. 

jov. 

Some women and children? 

SPART. 

Sirrah, wilt thou have it? 
Why 'twas my wife then, and my child. If they 
Be captured, I'll exchange them for my captives. 
Crassus shall have his niece too. Nay, I'll send her, 
Without the exchange, provided Crassus swear 
To give them freedom, and send back to Thrace. 
Let him swear this : let them to Thrace, I say, — 
Let them be safe, and I can die. — {Alarums.) 

.ENO. 

Look, general! 
We are attacked ! 

SPART. 

By heavens, a troop of horse 
Rushing against our hill ! Why these are madmen ? — 
Soft you, they chase some mounted fugitive; 
Nay, he has cleared them — Look, man look ! O gods, 
Do I not know him? — 

jov. 
For this proposed exchange — 

SPART. 

Look, look ! 'Tis he ! They are lost ! 



428 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

MNO. 

His horse has fallen : 
He is bloody too. 

SPART. 

But where are they? 

(Enter Phasarius, wounded.) 

What, brother, brother, 
Speak, speak. — Where are they? Ah! 

PHAS. 

My brother ! 

SPART. 

Speak ! 
Dost thou not know me? By thy soul, I charge thee, 
Speak to me ; tell me of my love, my boy ! 
Where hast thou left them ? 

PHAS. 

Strike me to the heart: 
I have robbed thee, brother, of much more than life; 
And all the blood these gaping wounds have left, 
Will not repay thee. 

SPART. 

Art thou mad? 
I ask thee of my wife, my boy, my loves! 
And thou dost prate to me of wounds and blood ! — 
Speak ! 

PHAS. 

I can better speak than thou canst hear. — 
Why madest thou me their escort? Why, fool ! 



THE GLADIATOR 429 

Thou should'st have known that I would quickly lead 

them 
Through the first perils that invited me ; 
And where a Roman throat was to be cut, 
Would drag them to the hideous spectacle. 

SPART. 

But thou did'st bear them off! Come, say it, brother; 
Thou wert imprudent, but still kind and true. 
I'll not be angry — come, I know thou wert worsted, 
Thy troops cut off — but thou hast saved them, brother ! 

PHAS. 

I would have done it, let my wounds speak for me. 

SPART. 

They are captives then? O traitor! — my poor wife, 
And my blithe boy! 



The boy— 



PHAS. 

The troops were cut to pieces; 



SPART. 

What of him? 



PHAS. 

Cried for mercy to 
A Roman soldier — 

SPART. 

Who spared him! 

PHAS. 

Struck him to the earth. 



430 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

God! — And his mother? 

PHAS. 

She sprang upon the throat of the black monster — 
Ask me no more — I faint. 

SPART. 

My wife! my wife! 
Let furies lash thee into consciousness. 
My wife, I say! She sprang upon his throat; 
What then? 

PHAS. 

He slew her — but I clove him to the nave. 
I could not save, but with my best avenged. 

(Falls.) 

SPART. 

There are no gods in heaven; 

Pity has fled, and human rage reigns there. — 

Wretch, doth the earth still hold thee? Murderer, 

Most traitorous, foul, unnatural murderer, 

If the warm blood of thy thrice-martyred victims 

Reach not thy soul, and strike it dead within thee, 

My sword shall sacrifice thee to their fury. — 

MNO. 

Hold, hold! Thou wilt not strike him? Look, he 
dies! 



(Phasarius dies.) 



THE GLADIATOR 431 

SPART. 

What, is he dead? All dead? and I alone 

Upon the flinty earth ? No wife, no child, 

[No brother] All slain by Romans ? Yes, by Romans. 

— Look, 
I will have vengeance, fierce and bloody vengeance, 
Upon the praetor's blood, upon the praetor's. — 
Thou grey and hoary wretch, — for being Roman, 
A wretch thou art — I'll send back to the praetor 
His niece a corse, and thou shalt carry her. — 
What ho, my Guards ! 

{Enter Guards.) 

jov. 

Savage fiend, forbear; 
Shed not the blood o' the innocent. 

SPART. 

< Foolish man, > 
Was not Senona's innocent, and my child's? 
Did they e'er harm a Roman? — Blood for blood, 
And life for life, and vengeance on the praetor! 

FLOR. 

Unhappy Spartacus, mar not thy glory 
With this unnatural and unjust deed. 
Let my head fall for her's. 

SPART. 

Thy head and her's — 
< Fools, ye are Romans, and shall die. 

jov. 

Forbear — > 



432 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

Take them away — 

JUL. 

Now may the heavens forgive thee. 

SPART. 

Off, foolish girl ; there is no pity left : 

My heart now thirsts for blood, and blood will have. 

JUL. 

I have your promise — 

SPART. 

Breath, that I revoke. 

JUL. 

I have Senona's; pity me for her, 
For she did love me; pity for your child, 
Whom I have nestled in my arms, till it 
Did love me too, and thou, whilst looking on, 
Didst swear no harm should ever reach to me. 
Yes, for thy babe and wife, thou didst swear this; 
And while thou think 'st of them, thou canst not kill 
me. 

SPART. 

Well, thou art saved. 

jov. 

Wilt thou, unlucky chief, 
Now claim the praetor's mercy? Let thy people 
Return to bonds, and have their lives. 



THE GLADIATOR 433 

SPART. 

These twain 
Shall go with you; the rest is for my vengeance. 
To show thee that the Thracian still defies, — 
Even in his hour of misery and despair, — 
Still cries for vengeance, still derides the mercy 
Of the accursed Roman, thou shalt see 
I court his fury. — Hang this Roman cutthroat 
Upon a cross, and set it where the Romans 
May see him perish. 

(Bracchius is taken out; and the body of Phasarius.) 

jov. 

This will steel all hearts, 
And change all pity into murderous hate. 

SPART. 

It is for that I hang him to the tree : 

There shall no life be spared in fight today. 

Look — let the grooms there kill my horse. — 'Tis done: 

There shall no flight be known; nothing but death. 

Begone, centurion and prisoners. Begone or perish. 

< FLOR. 

I thought thee cruel, but I find thee kind. 
Spare that man, and accept the praetor's pardon. 

SPART. 

Begone, thou foolish boy, while yet thou may'st. 

JUL. 

Shall I not thank thee, Thracian, for my life? 
28 



434 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

Begone, or die, — and all the hearted griefs, 

That rack more bitterly than death, go with you, 

And reach your abhorred country: May the gods, 

Who have seen Rome fill the earth with wo and death, 

Bring worse than wo and death on Rome; light up 

The fires of civil war and anarchy, 

Curse her with kings, imperial torturers; 

And while these rend her bowels, bring the hosts 

Of Northern savages, to slay, and feed 

Upon her festering fatness; till the earth, 

Shall know, as it has known no land so great, 

No land so curst as miserable Rome! — 

Begone, or perish. > 

(Exeunt Jovius, Julia and Florus.) 

Let the troops array. 
And all that would not die upon the cross, 
Slaying their horses, to the plain descend, 
And die in battle. 

</ENO. 

You will not fight today? 

SPART. 

This day, this hour, this minute, fight and die. 
Why should we struggle longer, in this dream 
Of life, which is a mocking lunacy, 
With ever sunshine playing far ahead, 
But thunderbolts about us ? Fight I say. 
There is no Orcus blacker than the hell 
That life breeds in the heart. > 



THE GLADIATOR 435 

/ENO. 

Alas, dear general, 

You are not fit for battle. 

SPART. 

Fit to make 
The Roman mothers howl. — Spare not one life; 
Shed blood, and laugh; and if ye meet a woman 
Hiding her babe in her scared bosom, slay her, 
Slay both. — O ^Enomaiis, but to think 
How lone I stand now on this pitiless earth ! — 
Had I not parted with them ! — O ye heavens, 
Could ye look on and see the merciless steel 
Struck at their sinless hearts ? 

<iENO. 

Alas, alas, 
Give not this way to grief. 

SPART. 

I will not, brother; 
My grief is blackened into scowling vengeance. > 

,ENO. 

Pray you, come to your tent. 

SFART. 

To tents no more; 
I couch no more but on the corse-strown plain, — 
Draw out the troops — I say, upon the ground, 
Pillow'd on death; thus shall my slumbers be. 
Come, battle, battle. 

{Exeunt.) 



436 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SCENE V. The Camp of Crassus. Enter Crassus, 
Mummius, Jovius, Lentulus, Florus, etc. Alarums. 

CRASS. 

Thus ends rebellious rage in lunacy ; 

Despair hath set the gladiator mad. 

Look, how with wild and impotent wrath, he rushes 

Upon our ready spearmen! — Lentulus, 

I am sorry thou didst slay his family. 

LENT. 

Nay, 'twas not I. Perhaps, / am not sorry; 
They were my slaves, punish'd as fugitives. 

CRASS. 

Detach the third rank and the cavalry, 

On all sides to surround them. Take them prisoners: 

This soldier death befits them not. Ten thousand 

Greek drachmae to the man that brings alive 

The leader Spartacus. 

{Exit Lentulus.) 

<jov. 

That ne'er will be. 
He slew his horse, and thus rejecting flight, 
His life devoted to the infernal gods. 

CRASS. 

A valiant madman! — Had he held my girl — 
Nay, but I should have storm'd his mountain camp. 
Look, moves not Pompey from the hills ? What, friends, 
Shall we stand staring at this handful foes, 
Till Pompey comes to help us ? To the front, 
Away, to the front! {Exeunt.) > 



THE GLADIATOR 437 

SCENE VI. Another part of the same. Enter 
Spartacus, iENOMAiis, and others. 

SPART. 

Leave slaying in the ranks, and rush with me 
Even to the forum and praetorium, 
To strike the officers. 

<^ENO. 

See, the troops of Pompey, 
Are following on our rear ! 

SPART. 

What care I for the rear? I see alone 
The inviting vengeance beck'ning to the front, 
Where flows the blood that Rome may bitterest mourn. 
Let me beside the praetor. Mark, no prisoners; 
Kill, kill, kill all! There's nothing now but blood 
Can give me joy. Now can I tell how gore 
Inspires the thirsty tiger, and gives strength 
Unto the fainting wolf. — No prisoners! 
On to the general ! > 

(Enter Lentulus, with others.) 

LENT. 

Lo, the bloody chief! 
Now yield thee, villain. 

SPART. 

Murder-spotted fiend, 
Thou led'st the band that slew my wife and boy ! 
Kill, kill, kill all! 

{He kills Lentulus, and exit with the rest fighting.) 



438 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SCENE VII. The prcetorium. Enter Crassus, 
Jovius, Julia, etc. 

CRASS. 

Get thee away; thou wilt be slain. 

JUL. 

I fear not: 
Let me look on the battle, and perhaps 
Return the gift of life to Spartacus. 

CRASS. 

Pr'ythee, retire. This man has won more honour. 
Than even the braggart Pompey ; for all ages 
Shall own there needed two united armies 
To quell him, yea, two Roman armies. 
What now ? Why fliest thou ? 

{Enter Florus.) 

FLOR. 

He has broken through 
The second rank. Give me more troops, and fresh, 
To venge my father's death. 

CRASS. 

Nay, tarry here, 
And mark, how like the timbers of a ship, 
Crushed in the mighty seas, the sundered wrecks 
Of this rebellion vanish from our eyes. 

SPART. 

{Within.) On to the general! 



THE GLADIATOR 439 

CRASS. 

What is that cry ? 
This is a victory, but Pompey shares it. — 
What rout is this here at our tents? By heaven, 
My guards are reeling in confusion ! — Lo, 
What man is this, unbuckler'd and unhelm'd, 
Gored with a thousand deaths, that waves so wildly. 
A broken weapon? 

{Enter Spartacus, wounded, etc.) 

SPART. 

All is lost; but cry 
Victory! On: I'll reach the general. 

CRASS. 

Smite him! 'tis Spartacus. 

(Spartacus is wounded by several.) 

SPART. 

Hah! Victory! 
Crassus, thou diest! I know thee very well. — 
Romans are straws. — No prisoners. — Naught but 

blood. 
Why should there be night now ? — 

{He falls.) 

JUL. 

O dear uncle, strike not. 
Let him be spared. — He gave me life. — Alas, 
He dies, he dies! 



440 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SPART. 

Well — never heed the tempest- 
There are green valleys in our mountains yet. — 
Set forth the sails. — We'll be in Thrace anon. — 

(Dies.) 

<CRASS. 

Thy bark is wreck'd, but nobly did she buffet 
These waves of war, and grandly lies at last, 
A stranded ruin on this fatal shore. 
Let him have burial; not as a base bondman, 
But as a chief enfranchised and ennobled. 
If we denied him honour while he lived, 
Justice shall carve it on his monument. > 

(Dead March, etc. Curtain.) 



THE END. 



ORALLOOSSA 

The following text of Oralloossa is based on a 
complete autograph manuscript in the Library 
of the University of Pennsylvania. The Bird 
papers contain another complete rough draft of 
the play in the author's hand. The text has also 
been collated with the "skeleton script" 1 in the 
Edwin Forrest Home at Holmesburg, Pennsyl- 
vania. Additions found in the acting version 
have been indicated by square brackets; and 
deletions of word, line, or scene have been marked 
thus:<> 

Oralloossa was finished in February, 1832. It 
was first produced October 10, 1832, at the Arch 
Street Theater, Philadelphia, Edwin Forrest play- 
ing the chief part, for whom it was written as' 
Bird's third prize play. 

1 "Skeleton script" is an actor's term for a manuscript that 
omits the part of the protagonist. The Holmesburg MS. gives 
only cues from the speeches of Oralloossa; cuts in that part have 
accordingly not been indicated. 



441 



ORALLOOSSA 

SON OF THE INCAS 

A Tragedy 

PHILADELPHIA, FEBRUARY, 1 832 



443 



ORALLOOSSA 

Persons Represented 

Francisco Pizarro, Viceroy of Peru. 

Francisco <de> Alcantara, his maternal uncle. 

Carvahal, a Chamberlain. 

Diego de Almagro, son of Almagro the Conqueror. 

Christoval, his Cousin 1 

Sotela >■ Friends of Almagro. 

Juan, and others ) 

Vaca de Castro, a Judge of the Court of Royal Audience, 

afterwards Viceroy. 
A Friar, Gentlemen, Soldiers, &c. 
Manco, Inca of Peru. 
Oralloossa, his nephew, son of Atahualpa, and 

rightful Inca. 
Peruvian Chiefs and Soldiers. 
Ooallie, a Coy a, or Daughter of the Incas, sister of 

Oralloossa. 
A Spanish female Attendant, &c. 
SCENE. Lima, and the neighbouring Country. ' 

1 The acting version adds: 
1st Peruvian Chief. 
2d Peruvian Chief. 
Gonzalo De Cordova, an Almagrist. 



444 



ORALLOOSSA 

ACT I 

SCENE I. A hall in the Viceregal Palace. Enter 
Alcantara and De Castro. 

de CASTRO. 

You tell me strange things. By Saint Anthony, 

This glorious region, which, when first I left it, 

<With treasures and despatches for old Spain, > 

Seemed in mine eyes the proper paradise, 

Your crazy quarrels have transformed to hell : 

Your leaders turn'd to enemies — those Conquerors, 

Whose deeds of fame had set the world agape, 

Now changed to currish combatants, — Almagro, 

<For so the winged story flies to Spain, > 

Dead by Pizarro's hands ; his followers 

Leagued 'gainst Pizarro in hot insurrection ; 

The pagans rising from their servitude, 

And smiting both — Now, by my loyalty, 

These things will bring your great ones to disgrace, 

Those that they bring not to the block. 

ALC. 

Great sir, 
The true are safe. You have not yet been told, 
What plots, and treasons, and rebellious war 

445 



446 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Against our Viceroy, and, through him, our king, 
Begot these grievous troubles. How Almagro 
Turned a malicious traitor, and so won 
A traitor's death, shall be hereafter rendered 
In full to you, — if rightly rumour speaks you, 
And your authority. 

DE CAST. 

And what says rumour 
Of a poor Judge o' th' Audience? <Sir, you stare 
With an obsequious wonder, that would raise me 
Into more high and proud authority 
Than that I bear. > 

ALC. 

It has been whispered, sefior, 
You bring a patent, that will seat you in 
The Chair o' the Viceroy. 

DE CAST. 

Sir, a Judge — appointed 
To aid your ruler, not to supersede him ; 
< To judge of present troubles, not to move him 
By questioning of those already past;> 
To quell those spirits that aim at hateful rule, 
Since, gorged with treasure, their ambition points 
A loftier path than that their avarice trod. 

ALC. 

These have been quelled, and by the Viceroy's arm. 
'Tis true, some spirits of Almagro's faction 
Still vex us, but not fright, — some desperadoes, 
That would make head around Almagro's son, 
But that our eye restrains them. 



ORALLOOSSA 447 

DECAST. 

But the Indians, — 
Their mountain risings ? 

ALC. 

Sir, a fabrication 
Of the Almagrists, (So the Viceroy notes me;) 
They'll smart for it — a knavish stratagem, 
To fright our war worn Governor from the ease 
Of his rich palace, to the dangerous toil 
Of mountain marches; where, instead of foes, 
Headed by their dead master, Oralloossa, 
He finds our slaves submissive and contented. 

DE CAST. 

But wherefore spake they of this Oralloossa, 
Whose name, methought, made armed veterans shake, 
And even their leaders show a face of terror ? 

ALC. 

Because they knew, the sudden resurrection 
Of this dead savage would more convulse the land 
Than spouting volcano ; and more quickly lead 
Pizarro forth than even the Inca Manco, 
With all his armies ; and thus give them scope 
For mischief in his absence. For this knave 
Was son to the hang'd Inca, Atahualpa, 
And crowned his successor; and, in a reign 
Of some few months, when he raised up the signal 
Of murder and rebellion, proved himself 
Valiant, and bold, and wise beyond his nation. 
< Millions of brown barbarians join'd his standard, 
And fear beset us in our citadels: 



448 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Scarce could our strongest garrisons resist him;> 
And, with his war-word ringing in our ears, 
Extermination for the Whites, he rush'd 
Like a swoll'n torrent, roaring from the hills, 
Upon our fear-throng'd city. At that moment, 
When all looked but for death, a mystery 
Ended his course of marvels ; the red meteor 
Rose, glared and vanish 'd — Oralloossa fell — 
No man knew how; but, it was much suspected, 
Foully cut off by his ambitious uncle, 
The present Inca. The danger died with him: 
Manco had not the affections of his people. 
Some still are here who speak of Oralloossa, 
And nod their heads o'er his unfathomed fate, 
And doubt his death; and on that doubt, Almagro 
Built up his vain device. 

DE CAST. 

'Tis a strange story. 

ORALLOOSSA 

(Within.) Ha, ha ! O brave ! Another moon or two ! 

DE CAST. 

What voice i? that? 

ALC. 

'Tis Pedro's, the Peruvian, 
Pizarro's favourite and most loving slave; 
<As strange a man as one e'er met withal. > 
He has grown mad to learn our Spanish arts, 
Is an excellent and exemplary Christian, 
And hates his countrymen for their ignorance. 



ORALLOOSSA 449 

He has learned to forge out iron into blades, 
And has a pistol of his workmanship : 
He writes and reads, curbs in the boldest steed, 
Tilts like a hero, trains Pizarro's guard; 
Is a most cunning spy, a snake in craft — 
A treacherous foe, but ever constant friend; 
And hath a marvellous subtle wit. His cunning 
Did more than other's bravery, to subdue 
The hot Almagro. 

ORALLOOSSA 

{Within) Brave! Brave! — 

How now, Pedro ? 

ALC. 

{Enter Oralloossa, as Pedro, with a firelock.) 
What means this triumph ? 

ORALL. 

Honourable lord ! 
Grant me your gracious pardon: I must laugh! 
Who would have thought poor Pedro's poorer skill 
Should venture on the white man's godlike craft, 
And make that weapon, which makes Spaniards gods ! 

ALC. 

Thank the saints, who have drawn you from the 

darkness 
Of heathen ignorance, to enlighten you; 
And thank your noble master, who permits you, 
Against all policy, to be thus instructed. 



450 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



ORALL. 

Oh, I do thank him; but his benefits 
Make dumb my gratitude. I cannot think 
Of all he has done for me, his humblest slave, 
But my heart burns to find a recompense. 

ALC. 

Sir, he speaks true; he is the lovingest knave 

Was ever mind-enthralled. Some think him crazed 

In the affection that he bears Pizarro, — 

<He doth so follow him, and, when in presence, 

So gloats upon him with his keen wild eyes, 

That his life's privilege seems earned with gazing. > 

DE CAST. 

A strange unnatural passion in a man, 

To love the oppressor of his countrymen. — 

What does he now? — 

ORALL. 

Alas, this altar here — 
What is't without the spirit that should inshrine it? 
This will not harm, this will not slay, while thus, 
Nor mock the vapour-spirits, when they flash 
Death through the clouded mountains. This is nothing. 
Without the greater secret — nay, not more 
Than is a war-club in a strong man's hands. 

ALC. 

What seek'st thou, Pedro? 



ORALLOOSSA 451 

OR ALL. 

Ye are Viracochas, 
Sons of the gods, and wise ! Would I knew this : — 
Tis not such sand as spreads the blackened beach. — 

ALC. 

What hast thou in thy palm? What, gunpowder? 

ORALL. 

Will not your honourable lordship show me, 
What is the secret of this little grain, 
That hath a god in its black mass wrapped up, 
More powerful than the thunder? 

ALC. 

What, a god? 

ORALL. 

Perhaps a devil, — a most pernicious devil, 
Wherewith the cunning may enslave the strong, 
And the few quell the million. I would know him : 
I have worshiped him; he heeds not, till, grown angry, 
I cast him in the flames; and then he answers, 
With a brave noise, and vanishes. 

ALC. 

Thou art 
Half pagan yet. Worship this senseless dust, 
Which is as gross as thy credulity ! — 
There's no divinity nor magic here : 
Three simple substances, within the reach 
Of every man, united, form this wonder. 



452 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

Are they to be found in Peru? 

ALC. 

Abundantly — upon every mountain — 

ORALL. 

Eternal sun! 

DE CAST. 

Ha! 

ORALL. 

Holy saints! — in Peru! 
What, on our savage hills? Oh, much I fear, 
My noble lord now mocks me. 



ALC. 

Thou shalt hear: 



The first is charcoal. 



ORALL. 

Charcoal ! Ha, ha, ha! Who would have thought it? 

ALC. 

Next, sulphur. 

ORALL. 

Sulphur! Ha, ha! Why that grows on the moun- 
tains, in the old craters! 

ALC. 

Last, nitre. 



ORALLOOSSA 453 

ORALL. 

Nitre ! — O sun ! — O holy Maria ! Marvellous, wonder- 
ful! Ha! ha! I can't help laughing. I know of 
caverns in the hills, whose floors are white with it. 
— Nitre — Ha, ha! 

ALC. 

Nature conjoins these elements together 

In the hollow chambers of your native mountains; 

Which, being ignited by the central fires, 

Produce the eruptive volcano and loud earthquake. 

ORALL. 

St. Anthony! but I will make some! 

ALC. 

You may do it easily. 

ORALL. 

I will make a mountain of it, I will make an earth- 
quake! Ha, ha! the Peruvian shall make a 
noise, that will cause his noble masters to laugh — 
the hills shall laugh, all Peru shall laugh, and 
cry aloud on the Peruvian ! 

ALC. 

You must be cautious how you handle it. 

ORALL. 

Cautious! I will — I will be as cunning as a wild cat, 
when he creeps through the thicket and circum- 
vents his prey. Ha, ha! Sulphur — nitre — char- 
coal ! — 



454 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

(Aside.) O holy sun! I thank thee! Smile upon me 
A little longer, and thy people yet 
Shall live to worship thee! And thou, my father! 
From thy bright throne of sunshine, look upon me ! 
Vengeance is nigh — thy people shall be free ! 

DE CAST. 

Is the slave mad ? 

ALC. 

It is his natural spirit, 
That oft bursts out into these rhapsodies, 
At lighter matters — (Trumpet.) Hark! the Viceroy 
comes. 

DE CAST. 

I did not think his grace had been so nigh. 
I scarce am fitted for the audience yet. 

ALC. 

'Twas but the trumpet of the advanced guard: 
'Twill be an hour ere yet Pizarro comes. 

DE CAST. 

Why then farewell. Tomorrow I will pay 
My duties to his highness. 

(Exit.) 

ORALL. 

By Saint Francis! 
Tomorrow! Yea, tomorrow, or the next day — 
And why not now? He will not face my master! 
Why I distrust him. 



ORALLOOSSA 455 

ALC. 

Certain, 'tis most strange 
He shuns the present meeting. 

ORALL. 

Sir, it speaks 
A very treason. Have I eyes? I see't. 
Now would I make a weapon of my doubt, 
And hide it — in his doublet! Holy saints! 
Nothing but treason ! All men now are traitors, 
Plotting their scurvy malice 'gainst my master. 
And, noble sir, he is too merciful : 
He should go seek his enemy in the dark, 
And then be quick — The dead men are our friends. 

ALC. 

Thou art too jealous, Pedro. 

ORALL. 

Oh, 'tis my love for my great master then. 

Yet I can see — Have I not cunning eyes? 

Believe me, sir, I swear, yon young Almagro 

Is a foul villain, that would sell his soul, 

To gain his devilish ends upon Pizarro. 

I see it; I have eyes — I have o'erspied him: 

He sharps his knife, and, from his window, scowls 

All day upon the palace. 

ALC. 

Well, your fear 
Here jumps with mine; and with the Viceroy's too; 
Who, in this letter, bids me have him summon'd 
To meet him at the palace, here, to answer 
For the feared phantom that he raised. 



456 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

A phantom? 

ALC. 

Of Oralloossa. 

ORALL. 

Ho! a lying phantom. 
What should the Inca do among the hills, 
When he so soundly sleeps (could one but find him), 
In a safe couch, hard by the Conqueror? 

ALC. 

Yes, in his grave ! I would that I might see it. 

ORALL. 

Thou never wilt ; for he himself did swear, 
No Spanish eye should look upon his tomb ; 
For he would build it in the Conqueror's hall, 
With the last Spaniard for his pillow ! 

ALC. 

Pedro ! 

ORALL. 

Did he not lie? 'Twas Oralloossa's oath; 
And what is Oralloossa, when the Spaniard 
Treads on his bosom? A very mad, strange oath ! 
What, the last Spaniard! A most mad conceit ! 
His grave dug deeply in Pizarro's palace, 
And the last Spanish corse to be his pillow! 

ALC. 

A ruffian runagate! But get you gone; 

Summon Almagro to the palace, here 

To meet the Viceroy at his earliest audience. 



ORALLOOSSA 457 

ORALL. 

I am your lordship's slave — A lying oath! 
A palace monument ! and the last Spaniard ! 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. A room in Almagro's house. Enter 
Sotela and Almagro. 

sot. 

< 'S death, I shall burst — Those tattered rascals look 
As they would sell a traitor for a crust. 
They are starved, all but the ears. — Lo, ears!> 
(He locks the door.) 

ALM. 

How now, 
Old soldier? Have you drawn me from the feast, 
And lock'd the door betwixt me and my guests, 
To talk to me of riot and excess, 

And your old grandam's proverbs? Or — perhaps, — 
What do I owe thee? Or rather, what my father? 
I am governor of Chili, and I'll pay thee. 

SOT. 

Thou governor! thou boy, that, like a slave, 
Sit'st down upon thy grievances, without 
The wit to see them, or the manliness 
With a brave blow to end them. 

ALM. 

Grievances ! 
Am I not lord of Chili, and the heir 
To all my father's Conquests ? Have I not 



458 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

My father's friends here sitting at my board, 
And swearing I'm the next man to Pizzarro? 
Come, let's return; < I have a stoup of wine, 
Which, though 'tis sour, is excellent old. Come, 
come. > 

SOT. 

Hark ye, young man : I, who am old and withered, 

My limbs all stiffen'd, and my blood congeal'd 

By sixty winters' frosts, now look upon you, 

Your patient sufferance of indignity, 

Your base forgetfulness of your father's wrongs, 

< Ended by his most foul and bloody death, 

While his red murderer stares you in the face, > 

As some thing monstrous and incredible ! 

Why my thin blood doth boil, and my shrunk nerves 

Find strength and fury, while I look around, 

And see the assassin of my friend, your father, 

Perch'd in his seat of honour, and the son 

Of the great Conqueror crouching at his feet, 

Smiling and jesting — 

ALM. 

Tush, you are in a passion, 
I crouch not at his feet; or, if I do, 
I have an end in 't. 

SOT. 

And what to — to gain? Perhaps a smile of favour, 

Followed by a kind order to his slaves, 

"Give this man gold, but drive him from my doors!" 

<ALM. 

Come, let's to dinner. 



ORALLOOSSA 459 

SOT. 

Have you appetite ? 
Now, by Saint Anthony, that meat should choke you, 
Which came, as a peaceoffering, from Pizarro.> 

ALM. 

Come, come; our good friends wait us. 

SOT. 

Fy upon them ! 
A troop of scowling beggars, that will feed 
Upon the bread of an impoverish 'd leader, 
Yet show no steel to right him. 

ALM. 

'S life, I tell you, 
They are all true men. How should they show their 

steels, 
When they have pawned, or sold 'em? <Or how use 

them, 
After redemption? Upon dogs and cats?> 
We want not swords — Pizarro does the killing. 

SOT. 
He kill'd your father! 

ALM. 

Ay ; all flesh is mortal ! 

SOT. 

Sirrah, it is thy mother's Indian blood 
Makes thee so soulless! 



460 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

My mother was a Coya 
0' the Inca blood; and all the drops she gave me, 
Have all the fire of their original, 
The sun of heaven ! Look thou, hotheaded man ! 
Swear thou art true, and wilt sustain my cause, 
And hast not come to trap me for Pizarro. 

SOT. 

What dost thou mean? 

ALM. 

That I am overlooked, 
And marked for peril; so that, rashly, I 
Will take none to my counsels. But forgive me; 
I mocked thy love, only to sound its depth. 
I have an end, rest you assured of that 
In all this seeming sufferance. 

SOT. 

Now by heaven, 
A true Almagro! — Death to your father's murderer! 

ALM. 

He stole my heirdom too, I thank him for 't, 

The regency of Chili and of Cuzco; 

< And keeps me here, noosed like a taming tiger 

To yield him sport, when he may choose to bait me. > 

Payment I'll have, and vengeance; but the time 

Is not yet come. 

SOT. 

Sir, by your leave it is: 
Now, while in chase of mountain-hid Peruvians, 



ORALLOOSSA 461 

He leaves his city masterless; now, while he 
An insurrection in the country quells, 
Himself quell with another. 

ALM. 

So I meant it, 
When (for I'll own it to thee), I myself 
Begot the rumour of the mad rebellion, 
And of resuscitated Oralloossa. 
Vain stratagem, vain hope! 

SOT. 

Why is it vain? 
It served you, as you wished, to drive away 
The governor. 

ALM. 

Ay; but it left behind 
The governor's slave. 

SOT. 

His slave! 

ALM. 

Peruvian Pedro ; 
My evil genius, as he was my father's. 
Look you, this kite was once my father's bondman, 
And by my sire ('tis now perhaps seven months), 
Given to Pizarro. the treacherous hound! 
Himself did pray it, that, by winding into 
The secrets of the ruler, he might profit 
My father, whom he swore he deeply loved. 
But mark his love! 'Twas he my sire betray 'd, 



462 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

And gulled him to the block, — this cunning fiend: 
Who, with an Indian's fickleness, soon gave 
The love he owed my father, to Pizarro. 
This villain is Pizarro's truest friend, 
And, 'faith, the Viceroy knows it. 

SOT. 

What, a slave? 

ALM. 

A monster, human, but inexplicable; 

[Of faith and perfidy, a lamb and tiger] 

A man and devil, a perilous enigma; 

Who looks upon his master as his god, 

And all men else his master's enemies. 

This rogue was left behind, with cunning eye 

To pry upon my plans; and pries so sharply, 

There's naught I do, but he stands by, the witness. 

While this slave lives, the Viceroy cannot die. 

SOT. 

Kill him! 

ALM. 

Ay, do me that ; and let Pizarro 
Not know me in the act. Catch him asleep! 
I think his life is charm'd: three times already 
He hath escaped me. — Hark! 

christoval (Within.) 

My royal kinsman ! 
What ho! 



ORALLOOSSA 463 



ALM. 

My foolish cousin, Christoval. 

{He opens the door.) 
{Enter Christoval, Juan, <and other Almagrists. > ) 
Well, kinsman, what is the matter? 

CHRIST. 

Much is the matter. <I have seen the day I would 
have given a man a cloak, had he but asked it. 
Look, emperor of Chili, you are appointed umpire 
in the matter of the cloak. I claim the cloak, 
and by Saint Dominick, I will have the cloak: 
but you shall judge. 

ALM. 

Pr'ythee, cousin, bring not thy foolish disputes before 
my venerable friend. 

CHRIST. 

Foolish! This comes of being an emperor. What 
may be sport with kings, is a life-and-death affair 
to commoners: a monarch may laugh at a 
shoulder of mutton, but a beggar is glad of the 
bone. 

JUAN 

He likens the cloak to a bone, because it is a bone of 
contention. 

CHRIST. 

I do no such thing: I liken the cloak to nothing but 
a cloak. 



464 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

Pr'ythee, some one tell me what is the matter? 

CHRIST. 

Thou art the umpire. Thou knowest, son of mine 
uncle, we twelve are thy twelve truest friends. 

ALM. 

And therefore I thank you heartily. 

CHRIST. 

Thou knowest, we twelve are twelve of the poorest 
varlets in all Peru. 

ALM. 

Therein do I sympathize with you. We will be rich 
enough by and by. 

CHRIST. 

Ay, thus have you been singing ever since I placed 
foot in Peru : And thus said mine uncle Almagro, 
— "Let my nephew come to Peru, and I will make 
him a rich man and a prince; and thereby he 
hinted, he was the same as a king in the land. 
And here am I, no more in Peru, than in purga- 
tory; and apparelled like a vagabond, as, indeed, 
are all my friends; and instead of having homage 
done me as a nobleman, I am jostled out of the 
way, like anybody's dog: and instead of finding 
mine uncle a king, I find him not only without a 
crown, but, holy Mary! without a head; and 
instead of finding my cousin, his son, the emperor 



ORALLOOSSA 465 

of Chili, I find him, next to myself, the poorest 
man in Peru. I would to Saint Dominick I were 
in mine own land again ! 

JUAN 

Ay, marry, or out of the cloak. 

CHRIST. 

Ha! I had forgot that. We twelve then, cousin 
emperor, being, as I said, so detestable poor, 
and our cloaks being so utterly rusty and tatter- 
demalion, we found us a conceit for keeping up 
the array of gentlemen, though our pockets were 
none of the yellowest. 

ALM. 

Well! 

CHRIST. 

We had e'en just enough among us to compass one 

respectable mantle — 

ALM. 

Well, well. 

CHRIST. 

So we bought one, engaging ourselves to wear it time 
about, each man his day. 

JUAN 

Each man his turn. Nothing about day. 



466 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SOT. 

To this thing, then, that man reduces them, 
For being friendly to Almagro ! Pho ! 
Denies them office and employment ! — Go to ! 
You shall take cloaks out of Pizarro's wardrobe. 

CHRIST. 

Pizarro! Ay, that is another thing I forgot in the 
controversy. I claps me on the cloak, and 
saunters about the green fields, not having seen 
them in sunshine for twelve days; and there I 
heard a thing may advantage thee to know. > 
The Viceroy is returning. 

ALM. 

'S blood, cousin, it cannot be! 

CHRIST. 

I say, the Viceroy is returning; <and with the most 
discreet and disciplined array of cloaks to the 
back of his knaves, as man never looked upon. > 
I had it of his advanced guards; some of whom 
railed at me, for a cursed Almagrist, and bade me 
beware, lest lying and tricking were followed by 
whipping. 

ALM. 

Have we traitors among us? 

SOT. 

What! 

ALM. 

How should he trace the stratagem to me ? 



ORALLOOSSA 467 

SOT. 

Nay, there is no certainty he does. 

ALM. 

That cursed Pedro! 

CHRIST. 

I would I were a viceroy ! I should have my Coya too. 

ALM. 

What say'st thou? 

CHRIST. 

That I am fitter to love a daughter of the Sun, than 
gray-bearded Pizarro. 

ALM. 

What, what? 

CHRIST. 

The Viceroy is enamoured of one of thy royal black- 
eyed cousins, a daughter of the Incas. 

ALM. 

Hah! 

CHRIST. 

This I heard from the rascals, or they slandered their 
master. He had the princess from Cuzco. 

ALM. 

From Cuzco ? 

CHRIST. 

Ay. 



468 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

Her name? 

CHRIST. 

Baptized Beatrice. The soldiers called her Hoo — 
Hoo— 

ALM. 

Ooallie ! 

CHRIST. 

The same; sister of the pestilent dead Inca, Oralloossa. 

ALM. 

Now is Pizarro bought and sold ! Oho ! 

When age resolves its reverend excellence 

Into the boyish -vapour of a sigh, 

Then may boys shame it with their manliness. 

Give me, for him that I would make my fool, 

An old man doting on a girlish face : 

Then shall I know the measure of his brain, 

And have his heart of trust, for tickling it. 

Masters, be merry — the fool'd Viceroy's ours! 

CHRIST. 

And whose shall be the princess? Look, I claim her: 
I have a fancy now to love a princess. 

ALM. 

Why you shall have a hundred, if you will. 
This Ooallie, this Beatrice, I know; 
And when I dwelt in Cuzco with my father, 
Built me a loving temple in her heart, 
That gray Pizarro ne'er can raze away. 



ORALLOOSSA 469 

But I'll not tell you further — only this, — 
That daughter of the Sun, even by the sun 
I swear, shall aid us in our enterprise. — 
(Loud knocking.) 

What is the matter? <Hark! Look from the win- 
dow : > 
Our friends come not so boldly! — Good my masters, 
I do assure you this same girl will save us, 
Spite of Pizarro, or his serpent, Pedro. 

(Enter Oralloossa, as Pedro.) 

ORALL. 

Where be these lurking haters of Pizarro? 

ALM. 

Villain, why break'st thou so audaciously 
Into my house? 

ORALL. 

Ha, ha! It is Pizarro's; 
He lends it to thee. By the holy saints, 
Thou hast no house. 

ALM. 

Sirrah! 

ORALL. 

My master loves thee not; 
Therefore art thou inheritor of nothing. 
Why break I in upon you? By Saint John, 
I stood at the threshold, and smelt villainy. 
I knew the egg was warming in the nest, 
And came to watch the hatching. 



470 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

Snake-eyed slave, 
Whom Christian light has only made a Judas, — 

ORALL. 

Pedro, not Judas! 

SOT. 

Is this insolent villain 
The traitor bondman? Draw your swords, and kill 

him, 
Now, while you have him in your hands. — 

ALM. 

Hold, hold! 
This fury mars us. 

ORALL. 

What ! you draw your swords 
On Pedro? On the poor Peruvian, 
That great Pizarro smiles on? By the cross, 
If you do strike me, I will have your heads. — 
I can have 'em any minute for the asking. 

CHRIST. 

That's very true. 

ALM. 

Hark ye, detested slave, 
Thou hast deserved no mercy at my hands, 
Who didst make traffic of my father's life, — 
My father that did love thee. 



ORALLOOSSA 471 

ORALL. 

So he did ; 
He said so : Yes ! he loved me. 

ALM. 

Wherefore then 
Did'st thou betray him? 

ORALL. 

Oh, 'tis very plain: 
I long'd to see how he, who, on his warhorse, 
Sworded and mailed, like to a warring god, 
Among the thousand slayers, laugh'd at death, 
Would grin upon a scaffold ! 

ALM. 

Bloody dog! — 

ORALL. 

I love to see a great man die, — a man 

That hath a nation murdered or enslaved, — 

Such a great man: Tis like the spectacle 

Of a blood-battened puma, as I have seen, 

Sprawling beneath a thunder-toppled rock, 

Strongly convulsed and greatly perishing ! 

I have seen an Inca die — look you, a son 

Of heaven's resplendent monarch; but 'twas nothing, 

Till I could hear a Conqueror's last groan ! 

Mark you, a Conqueror's! 

ALM. 

Thou art a devil ! 
Why dost thou seek my misery and death? 
I am not great. 



472 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



ORALL. 



holy virgin! thine? 
I could love thee; but thou hatest me, I know, 
And my great master. 



ALM. 

Him, thou soulless slave, 
Who has kill'd a million of thy countrymen, 
And hanged thy princes! 

ORALL. 

Well, why should he not? 
What were the runagate heathens made for then, 
But whips, and swords, and gibbets? Know'st thou 

not, 
Heaven was wroth with Indians, and raised up 
This man to be their scourger? 

ALM. 

Renegade ! 
I'll speak with thee no more. Begone. 

CHRIST. 

Ay, go; 
Get out, you cur. Why do you pause? 

ORALL. 

To do 
My master's bidding. Thou, Almagro, art 
Commanded by the Viceroy to appear, 
Within the hour that he returns to it, 
Before him at his palace. This command 
He makes me by a messenger. Look to it ! 



ORALLOOSSA 473 

ALM. 

What does his highness seek of me ? 

ORALL. 

To answer 
The lying rumour of the insurrection. 
You were better drown, than fail. 



I will obey the Viceroy. 



ALM. 

Insulting upstart ! 

CHRIST. 

Hark ye, savage — 

ORALL. 

I am a Christian; by Saint Anthony, 
A proper Christian! 

CHRIST. 

Well, a word with you 
About the Coyas. I will nothing say 
That's of yourself, knowing, as I do know, 
You are a miscreant to the bone. But look you, 
I am weary of my bachelorship ; and therefore 
Will wive, and, if it like you, with a Coya. 
Tell me then, savage, for thou art Peruvian, 
Where shall I find a Coya ? 

ORALL. 

In the earth, 
Under the walls of Cuzco. 



474 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CHRIST. 



Now thou jestest 



ORALL. 

Are not the graves all full? Why where shouldst thou 
Look for an Inca's child, but in the grave? 

ALM. 

Cousin, have done, and let the slave begone. 

CHRIST. 

Sirrah, I say thou liest now, since thy master 
Has brought a live one here from Cuzco. 

ORALL. 

From Cuzco ! 
A Coya ! — Nay ! She was not there ! 

ALM. 

Who was not there? 

ORALL. 

Ye slander my great master with a lie — 

A daughter of the Sun! — Beware, thou prattler. 

My master's wrath is swifter than thy tongue, 

And hotter than thy venom. — An Inca's daughter! — 

See that he smite thee not for this, among 

Thy other stratagems. When the last trumpets 

Sound his return, be sure thou seek the palace, 

And make him satisfaction ; or thou art 

Even ripe for hanging. 

ALM. 

Villain, get thee gone ! 



ORALLOOSSA 475 



ORALL. 



I say, come to the palace. — What, a Coya? 
Let the graves rot with Coyas, so they spare 
No wretch to be a Spaniard's paramour! 

{Exeunt.) 



END OF ACT I. 



ACT II 

SCENE I. A hall in the Palace <with open corridors 
and prospect. > Enter Alcantara and Carvahal. 

ALCANTARA 

Even at the gates? — Where bides this dreamer, Pedro? 
No guards about the palace, to receive him! 

CARV. 

All's fix'd and fair; the guards are at the door, 
The idle citizens in the street; all ready 
To hail the hero, who has quell'd an army 
Of shadows, and made conquest of a woman. 

ALC. 

Is it then true? 

CARV. 

Exceeding true. The Viceroy, 
With his old armour rattling on his back, 
Astride his arrogant charger, — and an army 
That might another royalty subdue, — 
Into the city, with majestic pomp, 
Conducts the spoils of this campaign; and that — 
And that spoil is — a woman. 

476 



Pr'ythee, no jests. 



ORALLOOSSA 477 

ALC. 
CARV. 



Be thou my confessor: 
Should not gray hairs bring wisdom and cool blood ? 
Is this a time to toy with amorous girls, 
When treason scowls among malicious men? 
Here now, the Viceroy, who should keep one eye 
Upon the dark Almagro, sets them both 
Upon a foolish Coya; and next will come, 
When she has stuffed his ears with lies and love, 
The thunder of rebellion. 

ALC. 

Pr'ythee, cease. — 
Such words would anger him. — Observe! 'tis Pedro, 
And with a countenance disturbed. 

(Enter Oralloossa.) 

orall. (Aside.) 

A Coya! 
Is there no degradation but must light 
Upon the blood of Incas? And from Cuzco? 
Now does this smite me with much shame and fear. 

ALC. 

What, sirrah, art thou rapt? 

ORALL. 

My gracious lord ! 
Pardon my thoughts, that they were with Almagro. 



478 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALC. 

What of Almagro? 

ORALL. 

I do think, sir, treason. 
Shall I go to the gates, to meet my lord? 

ALC. 

Await him in the palace. 

ORALL. 

They did speak, 
These vile Almagrists, slanders of my master. 

ALC. 

Why let them rail. — 

ORALL. 

And to my face, did call him 
The Inca's murderer! 

CARV. 

Pho, was that all ? 

ORALL. 

Was't not enough, to call him murderer? 
His highness murderer? Why men should call 
A caitiff murderer! And then they added 
Foul jests about a poor Peruvian girl — 

ALC. 

Where learn'd they that, the varlets, of the Coya? 



ORALLOOSSA 479 

ORALL. 

A Coya, didst thou say? An Inca's daughter? 
Now, by my heart, they lie ! 

CARV. 

What, sirrah? Lie! 

ORALL. 

Did I say that ? Lie ! Spaniards cannot lie. 
But think, my lord, — an Inca's daughter! No, no, 
They do not lie; and yet, methinks, 'tis false. 
An Inca's daughter, and his paramour! 

ALC. 

And why not, knave? 

ORALL. 

O yes, why not, my lord? 
Is aught too high or noble for Pizarro ? 
Why not, why not? It doth but honour them, 
Though the best buds of Peru's royalty, 
It doth but honour them, to be uplifted 
Into the bosom of the Conqueror! 

ALC. 

What, thou art moved? 

ORALL. 

By saints and angels, no ! 
It is great honour ! And yet Peruvians look'd 
Upon their Coyas as heaven's daughters; yea, 
Save the holy Incas, none durst touch the robe 
That veil'd their sacred bodies; and they died, 
When they but looked upon a man — yes, died ; 
To love, was death ! 



480 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALC. 

These were your pagan laws. 

ORALL. 

A Coya, what, a Coya? I do believe, 
It is not true ! 

ALC. 

Why should it not be true? 
This passion would make many think thee still, 
At soul, Peruvian. 

ORALL. 

By the mass, a Christian! 

ALC. 

Why should it not be true ? 

ORALL. 

Where should he find 
A Coya ? They are vanished from the land : 
Is not the palace of their fathers empty? 
And the green valleys, where, of yore, they roamed 
Among the violets, void and desolate? 
The children of the Incas have departed : 
They were the prizes of the Conquerors. 
Yet I remember me that one did dwell 
Among the hills of Cuzco. 



This may be she. 



ALC. 

Why then, sirrah, 



ORALLOOSSA 481 

OR ALL. 

This? Holy heavens! that princess was 
Of a most rare, and pure, and delicate spirit, 
Sweet as a midnight rainbow on the hills, — 
A trembling flower, that would have withered in 
The atmosphere of shame; and oh, so proud 
And queenlike in her gentleness, that she 
Had frown'd shame dead, though by a monarch 
offered. 

ALC. 

And yet, thou fool, Pizarro hath a Coya, 
A Christian Coya; and from Cuzco too. 

ORALL. 

A Christian ! 

ALC. 

Ay; art thou not glad of this? 

ORALL. 

An Inca's child a Christian? Oh, rejoiced! 

What were the Incas but idolaters, 

Foul infidels, and cubs of Antichrist; 

That perish'd in their darkness? But, at last, 

Come light and honour, faith and dignity; 

And a poor pagan girl may reach that grace, 

To be beloved by angels and Pizarro ! 

CARV. 

I think the knave speaks sarcasm now ! A rogue, 
With a fresh Christian wit. — 

{Trumpets.) 



482 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

Room for the Viceroy ! 

(Enter Pizarro, attended [and Gonzalo d'Cordova 

with his bodyguard]). 
Hail to the Conqueror! The Christian's shield, 
The heathen's scourge, the master of a world! 

PIZ. 

Our faithful Pedro ! — Cousin Alcantara, 

Are you yet weary of the regency? 

We will release ye. — What, our Chamberlain? 

See ye have maidens here, with love and honour, 

To give attendance on the Coya; service 

Render ye her, the child of royal Incas, 

As to a monarch's daughter. 

ORALL. 

Shall not I 
Become her slave, that am her countryman, 
And best will know her pleasures? 

PIZ. 

Our true Pedro! 
Thou shalt be near her, ever, as thou lovest 
Thy friend and master, with all zeal to serve her. 
But stay — I'll speak with thee, and there despatch 

thee. 
Gentlemen all, give me your leave, I pray you, 
Until the hour of audience. — Cousin, a word. 

(Exeunt all but Piz., Orall. and Alc.) 
What man is this, of whom you sent advice, 
And of his mystic errand ? 



ORALLOOSSA 483 

ALC. 

Dear my lord, 
The judge De Castro. 

PIZ. 

Let him be the judge. 
Yet ran an evil whisper through the troops, 
He bore a nobler title. If it be, 
The imperial fool men call Pizarro's master, 
Forget Pizarro's services, Pizarro 
Is mindful of their merits; and will not 
Their fair rewards yield up to favourites. 
He conquered not a world, for kings to lavish 
On kingly minions; nor a field of empire 
Sowed with his blood, for such to reap the harvest. 
< Let him look close ; his fifths of Peru's gold 
His frown will dwindle to a tithe, his anger 
To nothing; and ingratitude will rob him 
Of his Pizarro and Peru together. > 
What was this man? 

ALC. 

A judge, he did assure me: 
And yet, with sudden haste, he left the palace, 
At your first trump, and with such countenance, 
As makes me fear. 

PIZ. 

What says my Pedro ? 

ORALL. 

A traitor! 
Can I not see? Take thou my head, or his. 
I can see men's hearts peeping from their eyes; 



484 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

And his is mischievous. If he do see 
The sunrise, he will plot a crime for night. 

PIZ. 

Let him be looked to : pray you, seek him out, 
Ere he have speech with any here in Lima : 
I do desire him at the palace quickly. 
If I do find him leagued in aught against me, 
'Twere better he had laid his bones to rot 
Under the unknown sea. — Let him be found. 

(Exit Alcantara.) 

ORALL. 

Shall I now seek the princess ? 

PIZ. 

Tarry yet. — 
I love thee well, and think thou art my friend. 

ORALL. 

Thy slave and footstool. 

PIZ. 

I have tried thee long, 
And find thee truer than the best. All men, 
From fear or jealousy, have turn'd my foes; 
I trust not one: Nay, even my kinsman there, — 
Methinks sometimes that he could play me false. 
But thou art open to me as the day; 
Thy heart is bare, and naught I read in it, 
Save love and honesty. 



Pedro is true. 



ORALL. 

Yes, I am true; 



ORALLOOSSA 4«5 

PIZ. 

I find thee my best friend, 
Now when forsook of all that love me truest ; 
My brother Ferdinand by a king ungrateful 
Thrust in a Spanish prison; my Gonzalo 
Trooping, with my best veterans, at the springs 
O' th' mighty Maranon; and, saddest yet, 
Loved Juan mouldering in his grave at Cuzco. 

ORALL. 

Ay: 'twas Almagro helped him there. 

PIZ. 

Not so : 
'Twas Oralloossa's fierce and bloody hand 
That slew the boy — my curse rest on his soul ! 

ORALL. 

Yes, curses on his soul ! 

PIZ. 

Thou art my friend. — 
Under thy charge I left my fiercest foes, 
Almagro and his eleemosynary crew. 

ORALL. 

Foul traitors all ! I am barbarian, 

Else should I know what keeps them breathing yet, 

When they were safer in the earth. 

<PIZ. 

I doubt me, 
They were not proper watches for my pillow ?> 



486 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

Let them beside ye, when ye sleep ! I watch'd them, 
And know the knaveries that they meditate. 
Nay, they did draw their angry swords on me, 
When I did catch them plotting. — Wilt thou hear me? 
Why do they live? 

PIZ. 

Not that I love them, but because I fear 
Their death might harm me more than can their lives. 
Men then would call me tyrant and destroyer; 
<For men will talk. 

ORALL. 

Yes, certain, men will talk. > 

PIZ. 

We must be wise. Thou knowest that men, in secret, 
Still ponder sourly o'er the Inca's death. 

ORALL. 

Sourly ! 

PIZ. 

And call it a most fearful deed, 
Perfidious, dark and bloody. 

ORALL. 

Dark and bloody — 
Many such words; but some have blacker thoughts. 
I heard a man, who, in a sort of dream, 
Walking alone, did talk unto himself, 
And give such thoughts unto the babbling air, 
As made me tremble. Of the Inca 'twas, 



ORALLOOSSA 487 

And of his doom, which, he did say, out mocked 

The best of devils; for hell, quoth he, could plot 

No deeper horror'to affright mankind, 

Nor send a fiend more dreadful than that man, 

That schemed out this : For, for myself, said he, 

That did but look upon't, and gave no help, 

It haunts my memory with a racking dread, 

Chills me by day, and, in my dreams, appals 

With hideous images that will not die, 

But glare out still, to mad me : Then for him, 

(For thus he added, in his moody fear,) 

For him that wrought this horror, it "has sealed him 

Unto perdition; scorpions yet shall sting him 

With endless anguish ; worms shall gnaw his heart, 

Fires scar his brain, and slow corrupting terror 

Wither his body, till the hour is come : 

Then blood for blood ! and pang for pang ! and death 

Horrid as was the Inca's, for his murderer! 

PIZ. 

Slave ! — 

ORALL. 

But I smote him! 

PIZ. 

Do such babblers live? 

ORALL. 

Do not the Almagrists, and a thousand such? 

PIZ. 

Death to them all ! 



488 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

Ha, ha! I say,. die all! 
Throats to be cut! There is a joy in blood, 
More than in wine; and when it wells and bubbles 
Out of mine enemy's heart, it makes me drunk 
With a fierce rapture ! — Shall they die tonight ? 
Give but the word; thy guards are devils all, 
And will not flinch nor fright. 

PIZ. 

Nay, hurry not : 
Let them not openly die, as by my hand. 
Find out some dark device, for thou art cunning, 
Will turn man's eyes from me. How shall they die ? 
Think too, they have the wit of desperate men, 
And must be ta'en by craft. How shall they die? 

ORALL. 

Shall I not tell thee ? Look, I am not wise : 

How should the poor Peruvian be wise ? 

The savage cradled on the gorgy hills, 

Nursed, like a bear's cub, in the howling woods, 

With none to teach him ; save his wants and perils ? 

I am not wise ; but I have deeper cunning : 

The serpents taught me that, for I have watch'd them, 

When, through the tangled twigs and leaves, they crept 

Upon the drowsy hare, and, ere he started, 

Wreathed the linked folds around his neck, and 

crushed him ! 
I have seen the cougar too, where, from the boughs, 
He leaped upon the browsing llama's back, 
And, ere he knew his fear, had dug his heart out ! — 
Is it enough ? 



ORALLOOSSA 489 

PIZ. 

Use thy best craft in this, 
And trust my gratitude. 

ORALL. 

Give me men to aid, 



My body guard- 



PIZ. 



ORALL. 



Enough. Ha, ha! tomorrow 
There shall be sights for Lima ! Rare, brave sights !- 
Shall I now to the Coya? 

PIZ. 

Holy saints ! 
Such thoughts of blood suit ill with her fair image. 
Carry me these fair jewels to her beauty; 
And, for thou knowest her country's customs well, 
Plead for me for her love. 

ORALL. 

What, for her love! 
Is she not then your slave? 

PIZ. 

Let her not think so. 

ORALL. 

Why should the miserable savage stand 
In great Pizarro's likeness? 



490 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PIZ. 

For Pizarro 
Knows little how to woo, and less to woo 
Peruvian princesses. I swear, this Coya 
Gives me but tears, and terror, and rude coldness. 

ORALL. 

Coldness? Ha, ha! and tears and terror! Saints, 
But this is rare! A Coya cannot love! 
The child of Incas cannot smile on man ! 
Nay, I will woo her with such cunning words, 
Songs of old time, and tender yarabis 
As needs must win her to your arms. 

PIZ. 

Do this, 
And — But I'll speak not of the good I mean thee. 

ORALL. 

These jewels to her beauty — Costly magic! 
Dazzle the eyes of modesty with splendour, 
And that it watches o'er, — weak virtue, — steal 
From the unvigiled guardian. — Ye shall have her; 
My office and these pander gems assure it : 
The Inca's daughter is your slave. 

PIZ. 

Away — 
[Her women are comanded to obey thee. Hence] 
Unto the Coya! 

ORALL. 

The daughter of the Incas ! — 

(Exit Pizarro.) 



ORALLOOSSA 491 

The Spaniard's wanton — the daughter of the Incas! — 

{Enter a female Attendant.) 

Fetch me the Coya. — Why dost thou stand agape? 

Fetch me the daughter of the Sun. O thou 

Convenient creature, that watchest at the door 

To keep out honesty, and let lechery in, 

Behold authority — this jeweled chain, 

Sent by Pizarro ! — Bring the Coya forth, 

And then begone. 

{Exit Attendant.) 

O Sun. my father! bitter was thy wrath, 

When for Peru, most favored of thy climes, 

Thou didst allot so base a destiny ! 

Caitiffs and knaves, the refuse progeny 

Of vilest nations, lord it o'er thy people; 

A swineherd governs where the Incas reigned, 

And the mere ruffian, who would crouch before 

A passing grandee in his native land, 

Treads, in Peru, upon the necks of princes! 

Shall this thing be, and I, that am the monarch, 

Still play the bondman to the Conqueror? 

The lover, to the Inca's murderer? 

The pander to the Coya's ravisher? 

Still make my vengeance wait my people's weal, 

And find but knowledge, where I seek for blood? 

A moon or two — a week — perchance a day, 

And Peru looks from out her kingly hills, 

With her reanimate millions, and beholds 

The Inca risen, the Conqueror on the Earth, 

And Oralloossa treading on his neck, 

F the ruddy pomp of vengeance! — But I rave — 

{Re-enter Attendant, with Ooallie.) 

She comes — the Inca's daughter! — Get thee away. 

{Exit Attendant.) 



492 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Eternal Sun, that look'st upon my shame, 

Couldst thou not blast her? — But a look — Tis she! — 

An offering from Pizarro — Holy princess! 

Unveil thy countenance, and look upon me, 

Thy countryman. 

OOAL. 

Alas, alas, what art thou? 
Thy voice is like a memory on mine ear. — 

ORALL. 

Thy veil, I say! (He tears it off.) Child of the mur- 
dered Inca, 
Shame of the living ! wanton ! Ooallie ! 

OOAL. 

Ah ha ! — my brother ! Oralloossa ! — 



ORALL. 



Inca !- 



(She kneels.) 
If but a word thou speak'st, thou diest. — Thou wretch, 
Thou Christian's wretch! 

OOAL. 

My brother, and my king! 

ORALL. 

Ay, on the earth! there kneel, and crouch, and grovel! 
How comest thou hither, and in the murderer's train, 
His slave, his creature, his meek paramour? 

OOAL. 

brother, brother, speak not thus to me; 

1 am not that poor wretch thou callest me, — 



ORALLOOSSA 493 

But, though a poor and weak unhappy girl, 
The Inca's child, and Oralloossa's sister! 
< Brother, forgive me; take me to thine arms, 
And let me weep upon thy neck — I have 
A friend and brother !> 

ORALL. 

Why comest thou with the Spaniard? 

OOAL. 

Why dost thou chide me, brother? Was not I 
Left lone and helpless, feeble, without friends? 
Thou know'st my father slumbers in the ground — 
Where was my guardian then ? Thou didst forsake me : 
Brother, didst thou not leave me, yet leave not 
Thy spirit's greatness to uphold my weakness? 
Thou left'st me naught but tears and orphanage. 

ORALL. 

Thou art my sister! my poor Ooallie! 
But thou hast come to see a deed of blood. — 
'Tis well thou hadst but terror for Pizarro; 
Else had I doomed thee to the living grave: 
Now thou shalt share my vengeance. 

OOAL. 

< my brother, > 
What dost thou meditate? 

ORALL. 

Art thou fit to hear? 
Thou art a Christian! Say, art thou apostate? 
Dost thou, that hast thy spirit from a god, — 
A beamy essence of the deity, — 



494 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Bend to men's idols, — to the gods of devils? 
Speak, art thou Christian? 

OOAL. 

A Peruvian ! — 
Child of the Sphere ! although the cowled priest, 
Dashing the sacred water on my brow, 
Strove, with those drops, to wash the beam away. 
[She rushes into his arms.] 

ORALL. 

Nay then I know thee for my sister yet, — 
And thou shalt smile. 

OOAL. 

They said, that thou wert dead. 

ORALL. 

To all but thee and Manco; but tonight 
The Inca rises. 

OOAL. 

O my brother! 

ORALL. 

Peace; 
I am the bondman, Pedro — he that bears 
Love-offerings from Pizarro — Tread upon them! 
Thus shall his neck be trampled — Hark ! Away ! — 
The Viceroy! 

(Exit Ooallie.) 
(Re-enter Pizarro.) 
Does my master doubt his slave? 
Yet shall the Coya smile. 



ORALLOOSSA 495 

PIZ. 

Most excellent Pedro, 
What said the princess? 

ORALL. 

Many bitter words; 
But by the sun, and by the saints, shall smile. 

PIZ. 

What! Bitter words? 

ORALL. 

Hark how the heathen railed ! 
What beast art thou, she cried, what wretched slave, 
That speak'st of shame to ears of Inca race! 
That art the intercessor of a Spaniard ? 

PIZ. 

What! what! 

ORALL. 

That hast an arm unmanacled, 
And strik'st not at thy master! 

PIZ. 

By Saint Peter, 
This is a shrewish spirit ! 

ORALL. 

A doltish slave, 
That live'st to see thy country spoiled ; thy people 
Trod in the bloody press of tyranny : 
Thy monarchs gibbeted; thy daughters shamed; 
That look'st on naught but misery, havoc, ruin; 
That nothing hear'st but groans and clank of chains ; 
Smell'st but corruption; tast'st but gall and dust; 
And hast no hand for vengeance ! 



496 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PIZ. 

Now, by heaven, 
Thou speak'st me false. A maid so meek and fearful, 
Could not be turn'd to such a fury. Speak! 
What said she of the diamonds? 

ORALL. 

Look; her foot 
Crushed them, as adders! 

PIZ. 

I will find a way 
To cast this sudden demon. 

ORALL. 

Art thou moved ? 
This fume shall end, this transport rave away. 
Thou sent'st her diamonds: Wilt thou win her love, 
Send her such gems as best should please an Inca. 

PIZ. 

Name them. — 

ORALL. 

Send her a thousand Spanish heads ! 

PIZ. 

Thou ravest ! I have observed, within this hour, 
Strange passions in thee, fitful, fierce and wild. 
What is the matter? 

ORALL. 

Is it here, or here? 
My speech is clear — is not my heart with thee? 
Thou canst not think what rapture Spanish blood 
Gives to an Inca! 



ORALLOOSSA 497 

PIZ. 

Nay, I know't. 

OR ALL. 

Look forth 
Upon the golden hills: Now all of them, 
Those topless and magnificent old mountains, 
With all their metals, would an Inca give, 
To see all Spaniards carcassed at their base ! 

PIZ. 

A savage malice! But I think, you jest; 

Else should the Coy a see the Almagrists' heads. 

ORALL. 

Let it be tried. 

PIZ. 

Thou shalt have full commission. 
Win me the Coya to more gentleness. 
Meanwhile I must give audience to Almagro; 
And after that determine of his doom. 
Soothe thou the princess. 

ORALL. 

She shall be my lord's, 
When o'er this waspish terror. But a moment, 
And Christian thoughts assure her. 

{Exit Pizarro.) 
Go thy ways: 
The kite is over thee, that snuffs thy blood. 
Slayer of Incas! and the morrow sun, 
That, at his rise, shall altar on thy body! 



498 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Sire of my sires ! Peruvian deity ! 

Sink smiling in thy deep tonight, tomorrow 

To beam no more upon the Conqueror! 

(Exit.) 

END OF ACT II. 



ACT III 

< SCENE I. A room in the palace. Enter Carvahal 
and Alcantara 

CARVAHAL 

Here's mischief brewing. I would not have my name 
Almagro, for its credit. 

ALC. 

Faith, Pizarro 
Is greatly vexed with him. 

CARV. 

Vexed! Sir, I thought 
He would have bid us cut his throat i' th' presence, 
And then to put such foul contempts upon him ! 
Such slights and sarcasms as had stirred a dog 
To snarls and fangs. 

ALC. 

De Castro, too, has failed 
The audience; and this moves him. 

CARV. 

And the favorite, 
Peruvian Pedro, — what hath set him in 
This scowling ferment? 'Slife, he roams the palace, 
Like a chained wolf. 

499 



500 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALC. 

Pizarro hath denied him 
A boon, the first he e'er denied to Pedro: 
And, being so slight a one, it shows the stronger 
What anger moves the Viceroy. 

CARV. 

What boon was't? 

ALC. 

He did but ask (and why he asked, is strange, 
Since he has liberty of all his humours) , 
To ride, upon some whim, out to the fields; 
Which being refused, his eager spirit frets him 
Into impatience and great discontent. 
But let us to the presence, to observe 
The issue of this fury. 

(Exeunt.) > 

SCENE II. A hall in the same. Enter Oralloossa. 

ORALL. 

No horse, no messenger — And I an Inca. 
Without one slave to serve me in my need ? 
And I an Inca, still to wait the nod 
O' the white-cheeked slayer? — What there! 
(Enter Ooallie.) 

What, Ooallie! 

OOAL. 

Oh brother, is it thou? 

ORALL. 

Who else but I? 
Didst thou look for another? 



ORALLOOSSA 501 

OO AL. 

Another ! 

ORALL. 

Ay; 
Whom shouldst thou look for here but Oralloossa? 
Hast thou made friends among the Spaniards ? Spurn 
them! 

OOAL. 

When through the city's swarming streets they 

brought me, 
A miserable captive in their hands, 
One face there was among the stranger crowd, 
Wherein, methought, I saw a friend. 



ORALL. 
OOAL. 

Nay, of Peruvian blood. 



A Spaniard i 



ORALL. 

Then, holy Sun! 
Let him but look on me, and do my will, 
And a chief's province shall be his for guerdon. 
What, a Peruvian? 

OOAL. 

And of thine own blood; 
Thy kinsman, young Almagro — 

ORALL. 

Death upon him! 
Cub of a harlot, and the Inca's shame. 
Death on the mongrel ! 



502 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

OOAL. 

my brother! 

ORALL. 

Weak fool! 
Is not the slave a Conqueror's son; and therefore 
Thy foullest foe? As fell the blood-stained sire 
Under my foot, so shall the mongrel son. 

OOAL. 

Alas!— 



(Exit.) 



ORALL. 

A step! — Away. 

OOAL. 

Unhappy I, 
If Oralloossa hate him thus — My cousin! 
(Enter Almagro.) 

alm. 
Ooallie! — Hist! — I give my life to see thee. 



OOAL. 

I knew that thou wouldst come; thy looks assured me. 

ALM. 

And, as in old days, in far Cuzco, still 

Creeping through perils: For know, thy love has 

brought me 
Under the roof of him who seeks my life, 
And, did he see me thus with thee, would take it. 



ORALLOOSSA 503 

OO AL. 

Woe's me, thou art much perilled ! 

ALM. 

Think not of it. 
Pizarro woos thee, but thou lovest not him, 
Till the dove courts the vulture. Shallow tyrant ! 
Thou wouldst not think how vile a thing he makes 

me — 
Calls me to presence, to behold his ruffians 
Heap scorns upon me, and most biting slights; 
Then sends me, as to mark with deeper insult, 
Untended to the doors, — I thank him for't, — 
To steal about his halls, and find out thee! 

OOAL. 

Alas, thou wilt be slain! 

ALM. 

But not by him. 
I have a sword will all these wrongs requite, 
And a strong hand shall make his soul account 
For every tear he draws from thee. — Assure me, 
Thou art no willing captive! 

OOAL. 

Shall I need? 
Wilt thou not go back to thy father's land? 

ALM. 

What! Ooallie? 

OOAL. 

If thou stay'st here, thou diest: 
There's not an hour thou dwell'st in Peru now, 



504 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

But is forereckoned to thee: tonight, tomorrow, 

(And oh, perhaps, thou ne'er shalt see the morrow), 

An enemy's dagger hangs above thy life. 

Fly to the sea, and farthest from Peru; 

Fly now, fly quickly; and thou may'st be saved! 

ALM. 

Now, by thine eyes, thou fright'st thyself for naught. 
Pizarro cannot kill me. 

OOAL. 

No, not Pizarro: 
There's one that eyes thee with a deeper hate, 
And more unsparing fury. 

ALM. 

If thou lovest me, 
Give me that villain's name. 

OOAL. 

Oh no, no villain ! 
His name will fright thee : and but now he said, 
Thou shouldst most surely die. 

ALM. 

Why thou poor sparrow, 
Dost thou not rave ? I have no such enemy. 

OOAL. 

The Inca hates thee. 

ALM. 

Weak Manco ! — 



ORALLOOSSA 505 

OO AL. 

Oralloossa ! — 

ALM. 

Heaven bless thy wits — The dead? 

OOAL. 

Not dead! 

ALM. 

What, girl! 
Wilt thou play on me with those idle mocks? 

OOAL. 

I do not mock ; the Inca is not dead : 

But now I saw him, and did speak with him. 

ALM. 

Oralloossa ? 

OOAL. 

And, in the dreadful doom he darkly ponders, 
Thou, with the rest, wilt perish. — 



Where? 



ALM. 

Spoke with him 



OOAL. 

Here. 

ALM. 

Here! 



506 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

OOAL. 

In the palace ; his holy frame 
Hid in a bondman's garb. 

ALM. 

By heaven, 'tis Pedro! 
Dolt that I am! mole-blind! — What does he here? 

OOAL. 

Oh me, I know not, save to hasten forth 
His horrible vengeance. 

ALM. 

Ay! O noble Spirit! 
This makes my daring tame; and yet shapes out 
An easier pathway to the pinnacle. — 
I am his blood. 

OOAL. 

He will not think of that. 
I have betrayed him, but to save thy life. 
Wilt thou not fly, and leave him to his deeds? 

ALM. 

No, by the rood, but aid him for his love; 
And I have that will win it. Fear not thou: 
Fate made us kinsmen, and will have us friends. 
Hark! is't not he, along the corridor stealing? — 
I pr'ythee, leave me now to speak with him: 
And when again thou look'st, thou'lt see how far 
I rest me in his love. If still thou fear'st, 
Look on us from some nook but be not seen. — | 
Away, dear Ooallie. — 

(She retires.) 



ORALLOOSSA 507 

'Tis marvellous! 
The very madness of his savage nature! 
<And yet most well. — > 

(Re-enter Oralloossa.) 

And now I am amazed, 
That, through this shadowy garb, my sottish eyes 
Saw not the glimmering glories of the Inca. — 
Heaven save the excellent Pedro! 

ORALL. 

Hah! A traitor! 
And skulking through the palace! 

ALM. 

Ay, a traitor; 
<But not to thee> a traitor to thy foe, 
But unto thee a friend. 

ORALL. 

Art thou grown mad, 
That thou shouldst steal thus through Pizarro's halls 
And rave to me so wildly ? 

ALM. 

Hark, Peruvian; 
Thou walk'st in clouds, but still mine eye perceives 

thee; 
Thou art not what thou seem'st, and yet art more; 
I know thee! 

ORALL. 

Know me ? 



508 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

And conjure thee look 
No longer on me as thine enemy, 
But as thy friend and servant. 

OR ALL. 

Friend and servant! 
Is this the venting of thy silly spleen, 
Or babbling of true frenzy? 

ALM. 

Put me not off. 
I know thee, and can serve thee; for the thing thou 

hatest, 
Him will I slay; the vengeance that thou seekest, 
That will I compass. 

ORALL. 

If thou beest my friend, 
Thou seest the cross I worship! 

(Draws a dagger.) 

ALM. 

'Tis the best. 

ORALL. 

If thou dost know me, tell me in whose side 
It next shall rankle? 

ALM. 

In Pizarro's. 



ORALLOOSSA 509 

OR ALL. 

Speak! 
What hand is his that grasps it ? 

ALM. 

Would not his name 
From their foundations toss these frighted walls, 
As though an earthquake shook them ? Let me know 

thee, 
Not call thee what I know thee — Oralloossa! 

ORALL. 

Thou buy'st thy fatal knowledge with thy life — 
Die with thy secret ! — 

{He offers to slay him: Ooallie rushes in, and arrests 

him.) 

OO AL. 

O my brother, strike not ! 

ORALL. 

Away, thou faithless fool ! His lips have uttered 
The doom that seals them. 

OOAL. 

Spare him, brother, spare him! 
If thou must slay, slay me, that did betray thee, 
Not him that's faithful. 

ORALL. 

Why should I spare the life, 



That is my hate? 



510 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

OOAL. 

For that it is my love; 
For that thou slay'st the one that was my brother, 
When thou wert not ; that was my loyal friend, 
When all men else, and thou with them, had fled me; 
And for the knife thou plungest in his breast, 
Sinks deeper into mine. 

ORALL. 

Well, get thee gone, 
And let me speak with him. The thing thou lovest, 
Should be of truth. — Son of the Spaniard, speak: 
Lovest thou the Coya? 

ALM. 

Ay; and for her love, 
Forget my father and my countrymen, 
And seal me solely thine. 

ORALL. 

Then know, her life 
Gages thy truth. — Away ! Thy love has saved, 
And thy life answers. Get thee hence: He lives, 
And is my friend ! 

(Exit Ooallie.) 

ALM. 

Cousin and Inca, know me 
Thy truest vassal. 

ORALL. 

Not that thou hast the blood 
Of Incas, spare I thine; but that their daughter 
Has bought thee with her tears : and for her love, 



ORALLOOSSA 511 

I spare and love thee; and for her sake, take thee 
The partner of my counsels. 

ALM. 

But why put'st thou 
Thy greatness to this jeopardy? 

ORALL. 

To make 
My people free and great ! To win them knowledge, 
Am I the bondman of my foe. But thou 
Hast science of all Christian arts, and shalt 
Instruct my people: yea, for this I'll love thee: 
Thou makest me sooner free for my revenge ! 

ALM. 

Thou hast, each hour, under thine arm^d hand 
Thy father's murderer. 

ORALL. 

Ha, ha! to think of that! 
The murderer of the Inca, and my father! 
The Inca's hangman! Ho! and I did stand 
Upon the hilltop when they doomed and slew him, 
And looked down on the deed, — I, I — even I ! 
And saw their felon fingers clench'd upon 
His sacred body, the immortal image 
Torn from his brow and trampled on, and he, 
The Inca, like a base beast, gibbeted! 
Gibbeted, gibbeted! 

ALM. 

Pizarro's life 
Can ne'er atone that deed. 



512 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

The lives of all, 
Though not atone, yet shall they answer, — all ! 
All Spanish lives, or ere the morrow's sun 
Sinks in the sea : so shall the Spaniards die : 
Look, all — they shall all die! 

ALM. 

What, all? 



ORALL. 



All, all! 



If thou hast kinsmen, look to give them up: 

There is not one of all these Spanish fiends 

Shall see the evening of that day, not one! 

When thou seest reptiles rattling at thy feet, 

What doest thou? Answer that. — Thou crushest 

them 
The engendering mother and her hissing brood ; 
Thou sparest not one — There's ne'er a wretch of these 
But is an obscene serpent in mine eyes. 
Full of all venom ! 

ALM. 

Well, I am Peruvian: 
The Spanish blood I have, I give to thee. 

ORALL. 

Thou shalt be chief of Quito! Hark to me: 
Tonight (and 'twas tonight thou shouldst have died, 
Pizarro ordering) , Pizarro dies. 

This (Displaying a golden sun.) wakes me up my 
slumbering countrymen, 



ORALLOOSSA 513 

And brings me Manco, with his hidden armies, 

T' invest the city. Take thy horse and fly, 

(For on thy speed an empire hangs its fate.) 

Fly to the hills, thy path on Rimac's brink; 

And whatsoe'er Peruvian thou seest, 

Among those wilds, to him this sun display, 

And bid him guide thee unto Manco: him 

By this — more powerful than the Christian's crown, — 

Command with midnight armies to the city, 

To him that wears it. Thou shalt be obey'd. 

ALM. 

And thou, the Inca ! 

ORALL. 

For thyself, Pizarro 
Shall bid thee to a banquet. See thou come, 
With arms about thee. — Thou shalt see him die! — 
Tomorrow, when the storm of death is o'er, 
Shalt teach mine ignorant people how to hurl 
This city of the Conquerors to the earth. 

ALM. 

Destroy the city ! 

ORALL. 

Ay, the brood and lair: 
Bury them in their gorgeous halls, and leave 
The mouldering ruins for their monument. 
Naught shall be spared of Spaniards, save their arts, — 
Their arts and memory detestable. 
Away to Manco. Let him march forthwith; 
The Inca calls him, and the hour is come ! 

{Exeunt.) 

33 



5H DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SCENE III. Another room in the house. Enter 
Pizarro and Alcantara. 

piz. 

Concealed, thou say'st? De Castro is a villain; 
Perhaps leagued with the greater one, Almagro. — 
Cousin, these men must die. 

ALC. 

It is most safe : 
Pedro assures me that. 

PIZ. 

An excellent villain! 
But for his crafty watchfulness, I think, 
The assassins' knives had reached us. 
{Enter Oralloossa.) 



ORALL. 

Good my master, 



Let me speak with thee. 

PIZ. 

Speak; fear not my kinsman. 

ORALL. 

The Almagrists ! — 

PIZ. 

Ay, speak on : He counsels with me. 
Those men shall die. 

ORALL. 

Then is my master wise. — 



Tonight! 



ORALLOOSSA 515 

PIZ. 

Tonight! 

ORALL. 

Thou had'st me find a way. 
How they might fall, and no man look to thee. 

PIZ. 

'Tis very needful. 

ORALL. 

There is but one way. — 
Let them sup with thee — 

PIZ. 

Ha! 

ORALL. 

Relent, as though 
Thou took'st them to thy favor: thus invite them, 
And let this banquet be their last. 

PIZ. 

Thou art mad! 
This is the surest way to deck me ever 
With blood, as with a scutcheon. 

ORALL. 

Hear me speak it: 
Should they not, when their cups have set them mad, 
Wax hot and insolent, and assault thy life ? 
Thou kill' st then unmasked murderers! Who shall 
blame thee ? 



51 6 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PIZ. 

Nay, this is wisdom. 

ORALL. 

Let thy guards drink deep : 
And, if thou wilt, why it was they that slew them, 
I' the drunkard's fury — it was they, not thou; 
The servants, not the lord. The very boldness 
Of the dark deed, conceals: How wouldst thou dare 
To slay so openly ? Thou art innocent! 

PIZ. 

My Pedro still ! Invite these vipers straight. 
Let the guards revel; and all curious eyes 
Make fast with drunkenness. Have thy dagger 
sharp. 

ORALL. 

Sharp as my hate. 

PIZ. 

Be wise. 
(Exeunt Pizarro and Alcantara.) 

ORALL. 

Ha, ha! noosed, noosed! 
To strike him sleeping, were a worm's revenge; 
To gull to grandeur, and then kill, an Inca's! 

(Exit.) 

SCENE IV. A room in Almagro's house. Enter 
Christoval, Juan, and other Almagrists. 

JUAN 

Courage, courage! I tell thee our gallant patron 
and <that> old < stick of brimstone > Sotela, 



ORALLOOSSA 517 

have hatched us a plot, that will give us dinners 
and cloaks enow; ay, and by the mass, Coy as too, 
or I am no Christian. 

CHRIST. 

<I saw the Coya, weeping in the litter; and, by mine 
adversity, I longed to knock him on the pate, 
that had made her so melancholy: for a melan- 
choly woman is nothing of God's making; and he 
that sets her in tears, is a most discreditable 
rascal, I assure you.> — But where is my cousin, 
the Emperor? 

JUAN 

Why, thou knowest, he has mounted his horse, and 
gone into the fields ; but after what roguery is not 
yet manifest. 

CHRIST. 

Yea, I remember me <and he had a face as full of 
meaning as ever my pockets were full of rials in 
mine own land: but wherefore I know not; only, 
methought, he looked more mischievous and 
savage-like than common. > And he said, 
there should be rare sport tonight, and many 
kings tomorrow. 

JUAN 

Ay; <and bade us, as each man loved him and his 
own good fortune, to make his house our prison, 
until he returned, to release us. > Rare sport 
indeed! Most unconscionable murder — as one 
may see in Sotela yonder. Look, if the old 
dragon have not a sword in his hand! 
(Enter Sotela.) 



518 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SOT. 

What, ye young bloodhounds, stand ye fangless yet, 
When older nostrils scent the coming hunt? 
Get swords, get swords; and see ye have them sharp, 
<So that the foe, though like a crocodile armed, 
May find his quiet in one thrust. Get arms. — 
Each man his sword and poniard : > for ye sup 
Tonight, sirs, with Pizarro. 

JUAN 

With Pizarro! 

CHRIST. 

Sup with the Viceroy! <Then, by Jupiter, 
I have the cloak. > 

SOT. 

Why thou exceeding goose, 
What think'st thou thou art call'd for? To make 

merry, 
In loving wassail? to be drunk? to dance? . 
To strut and caper with a delicate dame, 
< Charm ears, kiss fingers and be fast enamoured ?> 

CHRIST. 

What else? and for what else should he invite me? 

SOT. 

Not for thy love, but for thy life, assure thee; 
<To give thee bread, but takes thy bones for it:> 
To fill thee wine, and rob thee of thy blood. 



ORALLOOSSA 519 

CHRIST. 

That is, to murder me, a murrain on him ! 

< There's naught but rogues and cutthroats in Peru. > 

I'll see him hanged, ere I do sup with him. 

SOT. 

Nay, but thou must, and with thy sword in hand, 
If thou canst use 't. 

<CHRIST. 

Ne'er let me see mine own land, 
But I did buy it to kill savages. 

SOT. 

Why so thou may'st; but kill me Christians first. > 

CHRIST. 

Shall we be kings though ? 

SOT. 

Very credible. 



And marry Coyas? 



CHRIST. 
SOT. 

By the hundred. 



CHRIST. 

Ho! 

Then I'm resolved. One Christian's life is nothing 
To bargain for a crown ; when Christian monarchs, 
To keep them kings, ne'er boggle at a million. 



520 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

<Hang one's own land — there's no such windfalls 
there. 

We shall be kings all; but I claim to be 

King of that land where are the handsomest wo- 
men. — > 

JUAN 

So, by my life, our chief is back again! 

SOT. 

Then look to see great deeds. — 

{Enter Almagro.) 

What news, what news? 
< Shall the work still go on? What news, what 
news?> 

ALM. 

News of the rarest and the best. — Look at me! 
<Look I more mighty or magnanimous ? > 
Have I a sceptre in my hands? a crown 
Gilding my brow ? my foot upon a throne, 
Girt by my million vassals? 

CHRIST. 

No, by 'r lady: 
You are our poor emperor, governor of Chili. 

ALM. 

Faugh! Chili! — a poor wreck of hills and sands, 
And dwellers as untameable as they. — 
You are my masters, — meditate, decide: 
What will you have me? governor of Chili, 
Or king of Quito? 



Determine. — 



ORALLOOSSA 521 

SOT. 

When Pizarro dies, 

ALM. 



Or perhaps, (but that I'll whisper, 
Lest greatness stun ye,) Inca of Peru! 

SOT. 

This is to mock us. 

CHRIST. 

Inca! nay, he's mad. 
Inca indeed! Where is the Inca, Manco? 

ALM. 

Doing my bidding. — Will ye gape, and stare? 
Let the grim condor, on his giant wing, 
Flap at the stars ; yet shall his flight be lowly 
To that my destinies begin tonight ! — 
I have seen the Inca. 

SOT. 

Inca! What Inca! 

ALM. 

Both — 

For there be two in their superb conceits. — 

< Heaven save our honesties, what a rogue is man! 

As prone to knavery, as a cat to milk; 

That swallows vice for daily food, and keeps 

That which should be his truer sustenance, 

His virtue, for a toothpick! 



522 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



Sir, the two Incas?> 



SOT. 

But the Incas? 

ALM. 



First, imperial Manco, 
That, with his sworded multitudes, lies hid 
Among the leaves, ready to pounce upon us, 
When he is bidden by — the other Inca. 

SOT. 

The other Inca! 

ALM. 

That doth sleep among us; 
He that was dead, but rises, — Oralloossa! 

SOT. 

What, Oralloossa? He that sleeps among us! 

ALM. 

We have been slumbering on a volcan's brink, 
The earthquake gathering, but we heard it not; 
Have seen the Inca, but we knew him not. 
We have been fuming o'er our petty vengeance, 
While the great storm of heavier retribution, 
<That us was e'en to swallow with our foes> , 
Was brooding round us. — Oralloossa lives; 
And he hath doomed ye. For the hate he bears ye, 
Read it in Pedro — He is Oralloossa ! 

SOT. 

That slave, the Inca! 



ORALLOOSSA 523 

CHRIST. 

Pedro, Oralloossa ? 
< Ne'er trust me now, but I did call him cur, 
And rogue and miscreant ! — > 

ALM. 

Be amazed, but dumb. 
I am his trusted now; and, at his bidding, 
Sought out his uncle, Manco, who tonight 
Circles the city with his hordes; and when 
The Viceroy perishes, turns his sword against 
All Spaniards. 

CHRIST. 

Here's a wolf ! 

ALM. 

I say, fear not. 
Thus Oralloossa ordered; but myself 
More wisely. To their camp the herds shall keep, 
All save the Inca, and his safest chiefs. 
I will not trust the knaves too far. — A year 
Hath Manco played the Inca, and now is 
So grown enamoured of authority, 
He will turn rogue to hold it. Let him be Inca, 
And ye are lords; let Oralloossa reign, 
And not a man of ye but dies a dog's death. — 
I have saved the city and your lives ; and win 
A Coya, and the sceptre of the sun. 
<Is't not a most brave fortune ?> 



Is't Ooalliei 



CHRIST. 

Win a Coya ! 



524 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



ALM. 



That name must be forgot, 
Or life and greatness. 



CHRIST. 



I hope this knavery's honest. 
To kill one's foe is naught; but to be traitor 
To woman, is to be a dastard traitor. 

ALM. 

Content you, cousin; you shall know all tomorrow. 
No harm shall reach her; and the thing that's plotted 
Shall hurtless end. 

CHRIST. 

What is that thing, that's plotted? 

ALM. 

Nothing — Thou art grown talkative. No more of 

this. 
We have fiercer work afoot. — Are ye all armed? 
I'll give ye further hints upon the way. 
[The chief of Quito ! The fiend that slew my sire 
Would buy my vengeance with a petty crown, 
But vengeance becks me with a dealer price, 
Blood and the Sceptre, I will have them both.] 
A trump will tell us when the Inca comes. 
Keep a firm countenance, and strike no blow, 
Till ye the trump do hear, and mark the signal : — 
No blow, I say, till I do give the signal. 

(Exeunt.) 



ORALLOOSSA 525 

SCENE V. A Splendid Apartment in the Palace. 
A banquet set out. Enter Alcantara, Carvahal and 
other Gentlemen. 

CARV. 

I care not, I, how many throats be cut: 

I hate the Almagrists. But this thing, t' invite them 

To share our hospitality, then murder them, 

Is very knavish politics. 

ALC. 

Yet 'tis necessary. 

CARV. 

< Nay, 'tis no matter. I will straight get drunk, 
And that way end my scruples. — > 

ALC. 

See, the Viceroy ! 
{Enter Pizarro, Oralloossa and several Gentlemen .) 

PIZ. 

Gentlemen all, my friends and confidants, 

Why for our lives, and for the state's redemption, 

We stoop to craft and perfidy, I have spoken. 

Honesty for the honest, but deceit 

For the deceiving ! Subtlety alone 

Can guard against itself; and when we strike 

These evil guests, we but forestall the blow 

They aim at us. 

ORALL. 

By all the saints, 'tis true: 
They think to murder ye ! 



526 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



And find it needful. 



ALC. 

We have thought it o'er, 

ORALL. 



If ye be not quick, 
There's not a man of ye but dies! Ha, ha! 
The spirit of blood is rising from his den : 
He knows, ye'll feast him! And the raven croaks 
Upon the hill ; for ye will banquet him ! 

CARV. 

Thou mak'st my blood cold. — 

PIZ. 

Hark ! — No words — The Almagrists ! — 
Is all prepared? 

ORALL. 

And shall my master ask? 
Had the doomed fiends this deed of midnight schemed, 
They had not planned it better. — Hark, how hollow 
Their footsteps sound along the corridor ! 
For all is lone and silent: Fast and dead 
The guardsmen sleep on their drugged cups. — All 

silent, 
Save the few watchers at the door — All silent, 
All dumb, all blind! — Room for Almagro, room! 
{Enter Almagro, Sotela, Christoval, Juan and the 
other Almagrists.) 

piz. 

Hail to our guests! Son of mine ancient friend, 
Although mine enmity thou didst provoke, 



ORALLOOSSA 527 

I put it by, and take thee to my friendship. 

Let us here quench all burnings of the heart, 

As scandals to the state, deformities 

Upon our soldier fame; and have all Spaniards 

Dwell in forbearance, faith and amity. 

What say'st, Almagro? Wilt thou gage thy truth, 

And sit in friendship at my board ? 

ALM. 

So the saints speed me, 
It is my true desire; wherein do join me 
These friends, whom I beseech your highness know. 

PIZ. 

They are welcome. To your seats all, gentlemen. 
At my right hand, Almagro; where thy sire 
Was wont to sit. 

ALM. 

Unworthy I, or any, 
To hold that seat, wherein my father sat. 

PIZ. 

A bumper to his memory — Pledge it all. 
The noblest soldier, had he been but true, 
E'er smote a heathen. 

ALM. 

My lord, the noblest soldier, 
And, by this hand, the truest! 

plz. 

Foolish boy, 
Thou anger'st me, to call him true and noble. 



528 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

What matchless marvels wrought he with his sword? 
What people conquered? or what Inca slew? 

ORALL. 

Hark, hark! What Inca? Was not that great deed 
Left for Pizarro? 

PIZ. 

Thou shalt feast thine eyes 
Upon the sacred robe and diadem, 
And say, what hand but mine could pluck them off. 
What! to my cabinet, for the Inca's spoils; 
Tis fit I show them to this boastful boy. 

(Exit Oralloossa.) 
Why dost thou fume ? Drink to that famous deed, 
And him that solely wrought it. 

ALM. 

Very solely. 
I thank the saints, my father but looked on, 
And did not aid thee. 

PIZ. 

Hah! 

ALM. 

Shall I be dumb, 
When thou dost bait me with my father's wrongs 
And mock'st me with thy sins? 

ALC. 

What, foul-mouthed, sirrah? 



ORALLOOSSA 529 

ALM. 

Why didst thou call me to thy board tonight ? 
To be thy friend, or humble laughing-stock? 
Strong as thou art, I tell thee, churlish Viceroy, 
My sire, that on the infamous scaffold fell, 
Lies nobler in his bloody grave, than thou 
Upon thy chair of greatness. 

CARV. 

Here is treason ! 

PIZ. 

Peace, friends; — I love the spirit of the boy, 
Though but a mad one. — Shall I make thee friend? 
Thou art of turbulent and traitorous blood. 
I called thee, not to give thee hope to fawn, 
And prate thy fertile malice into favour; 
But to make answer, in these midnight halls, 
For thy long pardoned frenzy. 

(A trumpet is heard.) 

ALM. 

Look that I 
Answer it not too sharply. Forsworn Viceroy, 
Thy guile is met, thy treachery forestalled; 
And that same trump, that speaks thy city lost, 
Calls forth the swords that slay thee! — <Draw and 

smite 1 > 
Throw wide the doors — 

PIZ. 

Ho, treason! — 
34 



530 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

Draw and smite ! 
(The Almagrists attack Pizarro and his people.) 

PIZ. 

Defend me, friend! What ho, my Pedro, help! 
(The Pizarrists are driven out; some Almagrists following.) 
<What, Pedro, ho! What, help! the assassins strike 

me! 
Ho, Pedro !> 

(Re-enter Oralloossa, as Inca; and, at another 
entrance, Manco and Peruvian Chiefs.) 

ORALL. 

Who calls on Pedro? — My foot upon thy neck! 
Look up ! 'tis Oralloossa calls— the Inca ! 
Slayer of Incas, he, thy slave, the Inca! 
Thus for my murdered sire ! thus for my people ! — 
Last of the Conquerors, thy thrall is free! 

(He kills Pizarro. They do him homage, in a grand 
tableau, as the Curtain falls.) 

END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV 

SCENE I. A Street in Lima. Alarums. Enter 
De Castro, Alcantara, Carvahal, and others, 
[Gonzalo]. 

de castro 

You see, I have authority to rule; 

Pizarro being dead, my charter makes me 

His successor. In the king's name obey me. 

I have o'erlooked this deed, and ta'en such measures 

As now preserve you. If ye be true men, 

Lead on the citizens that I have raised, 

Against the palace and the murderers: 

Thence 'gainst the brown assailants at the walls. 

On, for our lives, and for your conquest, on! 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. At the gates. Alarums. Enter Al- 
magro, Manco, the Almagrists, Peruvian Chiefs, 
Oralloossa, and Ooallie, retreating. 

ORALL. 

Curst be the treason, that has snatched this prey 
Out of my grasp. False Manco, thou shalt answer 
This city's loss. Where are those countless armies, 
I bade thee bring me? Where those troops, should 

master 
The s worded citizens, whose weak arms expel us? 
Give me my armies, or I'll have thy head! 

53i 



532 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



ALM. 



It is too late. Hence to thy safer camp — 
They sally on us! 

ORALL. 

Art thou too leagued against me ? 
Was not this city mine, with all its fiends? 
And now mine enemy's? 

ALM. 

It is thine tomorrow. 
I weep this city's loss as much as thou. — 

ORALL. 

Bring up the troops. 

ALM. 

I say, it cannot be. 
Hence to the camp, all those that love their lives. 
Thou wilt not fight thy Spanish foes alone? 

ORALL. 

Alone, thou knave! What, are these chieftains all? 
All that mine agent brings ? Traitorous Manco, 
Did I not charge thee, by the Inca's emblem, 
To bring thine armies to the citadel ? 
And hast thou brought not even to the walls? 
What, villain uncle! 

MANC. 

Stop thy railing tongue : 



Thou speak 'st to — 



ORALLOOSSA 533 

ALM. 

{Apart to Manco.) 

Hah — not yet : 'Tis not yet safe — 
Thy troops are lodged hard by; and on the instant, 
When thou hast come to them, thou shalt command 
them. 

ORALL. 

My railing tongue? Said Manco that to me ? 
To Oralloossa? 

OOAL. 

O my royal brother, 
Be not moved now; be not now angry with them. 
They have mistaken — surely not betrayed. 
Leave first this place of peril ; then discover 
Our uncle innocent. Speak to him, Almagro! 
Is he not innocent, even as thyself? 

ALM. 

Ay, by my troth — as innocent as myself. — 
I hoped thou wert with the Spaniards. 

OOAL. 

Hoped? 

ALM. 

Nay, thought. 
These fierce perturbing tumults make me mad : 
I know not what I say — Hark, hark! {Alarums.) Again 
They sally on us! — Hence to the army. — Come, 
Cling to mine arm. — 



534 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

Come thou with me. This night, 
I think all hearts are full of perfidy. 
My trust is shaken — But it is no matter: 
I'll have them answer quickly at my feet. — 
Come thou with me, for thou art very guileless, 
And he may be a traitor. — Get ye on, 
Unto the army; and if it be loyal, 
All may be answered, remedied, forgotten. 

(Exeunt. Alarums.) 

(Enter De Castro, Alcantara, Carvahal, and others 
of the Viceroy's party.) 

DE CAST. 

Give arms to all, in the king's name to serve me, 
His delegated presence; give all arms, 
That all may follow up this first success 
Upon the routed murderers. 

CARV. 

Noble Viceroy, 
Thine energy has saved us from these traitors. 
Another blow — advance upon the villains, 
With whom now march the Incas; seize on them, 
The deified barbarians, and forever 
Secure against rebellion. 

DE CAST. 

Had ye sooner 
Of this most treacherous banquet given me word, 
(As late, in loyal thoughtfulness, ye did,) 
I had ta'en them in the palace, — foul Almagro, 
The hot-brained Incas, and their bloody crew, 



ORALLOOSSA 535 

All of them. But let each true Spaniard arm; 
And, ere the morn, they are our prisoners. 

ALC. 

<My lord, bethink you now, what grievous terror 
Besets the citizens. You beheld how bravely 
They drove the murderers to the gates. Look now! 
We are deserted. At the gates, they knew 
They followed Oralloossa ! the great dead 
Living again! the Terrible come back, 
And slaying in their city ! Superstition 
And terror tie them to their forted walls. 
They will not follow us against the Inca. > 

DE CAST. 

Nay, by the rood, they shall, or fall like traitors. 
Proclaim it instant as mine ordinance: 
Honour and guerdon to the willing, shame 
And axes for the fearful. Quick, delay not, 
Or the hills shield the murderers from vengeance. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE III. Among the hills, near the Peruvian 
Camp. Enter Manco and Almagro. 

alm. 
If the gross multitudes see him, thou art lost: 
They claim their Inca, and he claims thy head. 

MANC. 

I fear not that. They have forgotten him, 
Believe him dead, and long have looked on me 
As lord and Inca; and my voice proclaims him 
Lunatic and impostor. All the chiefs 
Have sworn them mine; and if the people doubt, 



536 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

They add their voice to his insanity. 

They have denounced him such through all the ranks. 

He must be silenced, ere we meet the Spaniards. 

ALM. 

I'd have it so; or else farewell thy greatness, 
And that I look for. 

MANC. 

Hark to me, Almagro, — 
The throne I have, thou know'st, it shall be thine, 
Make it but mine. 

ALM. 

I understand thee, and remember 
Whereto I did consent. But now think better. 
His death secures thee : think no more of her. 
Her woman's rights are but a feeble reed, 
Which thou may'st brush aside — Why shouldst thou 
trample ? 

MANC. 

Is she not daughter of the Incas? Hark; — 
There be a thousand here, that know, and call her, 
Atahualpa's daughter. She will bid them 
Behold their Inca in the man we wrong, 
And they will listen and believe. 

ALM. 

'Tis true. — 
Let her be prisoned somewhere in the hills, 
Beyond the ear of doubters. 

MANC. 

I did think thee 
Wiser than this. There is no place so safe, 



ORALLOOSSA 537 

But the caged witness of a crime may speak, 
And some one catch the echo — none, but one; — 
<Dost thou not understand? — No place, but one. > 
They would demand, too, why I dungeoned her: 
But when I doom her, as a blot that shames 
The Inca's purity, 'tis the Inca's law, 
And rightful justice; and all men are silent. — 
The maid must die, — and see thou art prepared. 

{Exit.) 

<ALM. 

And why should I not have it as he wills? 
Why weigh the value of a poor maid's life 
Against the golden balance of a crown? 
Ambition startles not at ghastly blood, 
Nor stumbles, conscience-harrowed, at a corse. 
And should the aspiring man, that makes his gain 
Of others' hurts, not hurt himself for gain? 
Not, where he stabs another for a purse, 
Prick his own bosom, for a dearer price, 
And wound his heart, to laurel-crown his head? 
Blossoms of nature, ye should never grow 
In hearts that are ambitious ; since the tempter 
Plucks ye, like weeds, away, till naught takes root, 
Save the rough tares of sterile selfishness. 
Love, pity, friendship, gratitude, away 
From such a breast, for ye would make it virtuous; 
And, virtue, hence, for ye would keep it lowly. — 
But yet she shall not die. — What, Christoval, wel- 
come ! > 

{Enter Christoval.) 
<I did desire you. > 



538 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CHRIST. 

Will you tell me, cousin, 
Whether or not there's such a thing as honesty — 
I say, sir, honesty — grows in Peru? 



Among the fools. 



ALM. 



CHRIST. 

Why then, by this right hand, 
I would that heaven had made me very simple, 
< And all my friends e'en noddies. Hark ye, cousin ; > 
'Tis better to be honest and a fool, 
Than a wise man and villain. 

ALM. 

Pho — attend me. 
I have a thing to say — 

<CHRIST. 

Never believe me, 
But there is villanous talk of treachery 
Tow'rds the young Inca, villanous treachery. 

ALM. 

Did I not speak to thee of this before? 
Fy ; were thy prattle sure to save his life, 
His first act would be, to make sure of thine. 
Give me no more of this, but hearken to me. > 
Thou askedst once, what mischief 'twas, was schemed 
Against the Coya. 

CHRIST. 

Ay, against the Coya. 
Let me hear that, and know what precious rascal 
Plots malice 'gainst a woman. 



ORALLOOSSA 539 



It is her uncle, Manco. 



ALM. 

For the plotter, 



CHRIST. 

Her uncle, Manco ! 
A serpent-soul ed barbarian! 

ALM. 

Thou shouldst know, 
The Incas held the honour of their daughters, 
As Roman chiefs the purity of Vestals, 
Holy and heavenly; and its loss did visit 
With the same punishment, a living tomb. — 
A living tomb they dig for Ooallie. 

CHRIST. 

What, 'slife! and you permit them? < Cousin 

Almagro, 
If you consent to this, you are a rogue. — 
Albeit my cousin, yet a knavish rogue. > 

ALM. 

Peace, interrupt me not. If I consent, 

It is to save her from her uncle's hate, 

Which else will find some deadlier instrument. 

<I had hoped indeed she had lingered with the 

Spaniards: 
Captivity had saved her for a time. — 
Whate'er I do, be sure, it is for good, — 
To shield my friends, and thwart my enemies. > 
Therefore, whate'er thou seest to follow now, 
Though of a seeming front of villany, 
Let not thy honest nature start at it. 



540 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

If Manco doom this princess to the grave, 
Give not thine anger voice; for, after that, 
If thou hast held thy peace, thine arm shall save her. 

CHRIST. 

Nay, if there is no harm, I will be silent. 
But all these crooked tricks, I like them not, 
These dark and shuffling ways to do one good : 
I had rather go right forward, and by daylight. 
<But all's here full of clouds and craftiness. 
I would I were in mine own land again : 
There's many very honest people there. > 

ALM. 

I'll take thee to an aged reverend friar, 

That is my friend; and show thee how, with him 

To aid and counsel, when the burial's o'er — 

CHRIST. 

The burial! What, they will not bury her? 

ALM. 

There is a cavern in the hill hard by, 

Where, though walled up, a man may live for days, 

And find heaven's sweet and wholesome breath still 

come, 
Through hidden crannies, freshly to his lips. 
The solemn doom (a solemn mockery,) 
No sooner o'er, and friendly night returned, 
Ye shall be ready with your picks and spades, 
To give her life and liberty. — But hark ! 
Some one approaches. — By and by, I'll show thee 
More of this matter — Hah ! 

(Enter Ooallie.) 



ORALLOOSSA 541 

<CHRIST. 

TheCoya!— 'Slife, 
This plot against her is most damnable. > 

OOAL. 

Is't thou, Almagro? O, I am very glad, — 
And sorry too — to find thee in this camp. 

ALM. 

Thou shouldst be hidden from the people's gaze. 



OOAL. 

Tell me, Almagro, do they frown on thee too? 
Dost thou not share his peril ? 



ALM. 



There is no peril. 



OOAL. 

Oh, but there is, Almagro; hate and treachery 
Working against my brother; and, I fear, 
My uncle is not true, the chiefs disloyal: 
They group together and, with frowning eyes, 
Follow his steps; and he is chafed and moody. — 
Nay, I did hear them, with seditious whispers, 
Call him a crazed impostor. Pray, believe me, 
Nor scorn my words, because I am a foolish girl, 
Nor think my fearful fancy coins these ills. 
< I heard them speak, and use such scowling looks 
As honest men ne'er wear. > I saw too, when 
My brother would have passed towards the army, 
They raised their mutinous spears against his breast, 
And said the Inca charged them thus. — The Inca! 
My brother is the Inca. 



542 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

I must hence : 
I have a duty which excuses me. 

OOAL. 

Oh, if thou leav'st me, keep thine eye upon them, 
Lest, by some treachery, they take thy life. 

ALM. 

Away — Why dost thou hold me? 

(Exit.) 

OOAL. 

Ah, Almagro! — 
Have I not angered him, that he should part 
So roughly from me? 

CHRIST. 

Princess, be of good cheer. 
If thou suspect him for a knave, ne'er trust me 
But I am half a doubter in that kind. 
But ne'ertheless, keep thou a valiant heart; 
For, by mine honesty, thou shalt be saved. 

(Exit.) 

OOAL. 

/ shall be saved! Why then I am in peril ; 
And yet Almagro leaves me ! Nay, I know, 
The rest are false, but how can he be so? 

ORALL. 

(Within.) 
Traitors and slaves! I'll have ye torn with dogs — 
Way for the Inca ! — 



ORALLOOSSA 543 

OO AL. 

Out, alas! my brother! 

ORALL. 

{Within.) 
Traitorous chiefs ! fling ye your bodies thus 
Before my path, and are not made my footstools? 
Way for the Inca ! — 

{Enter Oralloossa, followed by Peruvian 
Chiefs.) 

I will have ye thrown 
To feed the crocodiles ! traitors that ye are, 
Villains and traitors ! 

OO AL. 

O my brother ! Inca ! 

ORALL. 

Ha, ha! thou fool, call'st thou this cozened slave 
The Inca ? Why thou seest, these beggar curs, 
How they may bait me! 

OOAL. 

O dear brother, hear me: 
This place is full of treachery ; thine uncle — 

ORALL. 

My slave! — 

OOAL. 

Is turned against thee, and the chiefs 
Basely possest. 



544 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

Dost thou not look to die? 
Thou wert the gaze of one's fidelity, 
And he is false as darkness. 

OOAL. 

True as day; 
Kill me, if he be not. Would I not die, 
To be thy ransome from this treachery ? 
Yet is his faith more stable than my life, — 
He would not give his honour, even to save thee. 

ORALL. 

These dogs, thou seest ! they raise their spears against 

me; 
They course me on, — like flocking wolves, that follow 
The wounded llama on his friendless path, 
So do they course me wheresoe'er I go. 
Thou cozening wretch, thou bring'st me to a trap, 
Betray'st me to my wolfish enemies, 
And mak'st me mad and pitiful. 

OOAL. 

O dear brother, 
Fly from their rage then, while thou may'st : be safe, 
Then kill, if I have wronged thee. 

ORALL. 

Come with me. — 
Here, in thine ear — My uncle is a villain; 
The chiefs are traitors. Get thee to the camp, 
And tell my people, how, this hour, foul falsehood 
Hedges their Inca from them. Do me this, 
And by my father's clouded face, these rogues 



ORALLOOSSA 545 

Shall die like dogs, like dogs! — Vile runagates, 

Will you permit your Inca seek your Inca, 

And do obeisance to him? Inca to Inca? 

Will you permit him? Follow, curs, and help him 

To work this regicidal sacrilege. 

Follow me, curs — the Inca to the Inca ! 

{Exeunt Oralloossa and Ooallie, sever- 
ally, and each followed by Chiefs.) 

SCENE IV. Before the Peruvian Camp. Manco 
throned, and surrounded by the Almagrists and Chiefs. 
Peruvians covering the hills. 

ALM. 

Why look ye gloomy, soldiers of Castile, 

Upon this strange and solemn preparation ? 

Call it perfidious and dishonourable, 

Call it impiety and ingratitude ; 

Yet is this deed, as none but this can be, 

The warrant of your lives, your weal, and fortunes. 

ORALL. 

{Within.) 
Way for the Inca ! 

MANC. 

Stand all fast and ready, 
Lest in his fury and his desperation, 
His arm be fatal. 

ALM. 

Fear not thou; he comes 
Weaponless to us. 

35 



546 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

(Within.) 
Way for the Inca, way ! 

(Enter Oralloossa, followed by Chiefs, who occupy 
the entrances.) 

Villain and slave, that sit'st upon the throne, 
Tell me (for these strange sights and stranger deeds, 
These marvellous, monstrous jugglings of today, 
Have set me mad) . What insane wretch art thou, 
And these about thee? What am I, that creep, 
Among Peruvians, hunted and opposed, 
Frowned on, surrounded, met by clubs and spears, 
And bade to call thee Inca ? What art thou ? 

MANC. 

Manco, the Inca. 

ORALL. 

Hah! the Inca, Manco? 



And thou, — 



MANC. 
ORALL. 

And I?— 



MANC. 

That most unhappy madman, 



ORALL. 

Madman ! — 



ORALLOOSSA 547 

MANC. 

That, in the Viceroy's fall and death, 
Didst well deserve our favour and affection; 
But by the form which thy distraction takes, 
(At no less aiming than the name and rule 
Of perished Oralloossa,) now dost force us 
To put restraint upon thee. 



Am I not Oralloossa? 



ORALL. 

Perished Oralloossa! 

MANC. 

Thou, poor maniac! 



ORALL. 

Look on me, Manco, — brother of my sire, — 
I will forgive thee, if thine eyes are dim, 
Aged and dim — Look on me, knave forsworn! 
Unnatural uncle! ere I take thy life; 
Look on my face, and leave thy stolen throne, 
And sue for pardon, ere I slay thee. 

MANC. 

Rail on; 

Yet art thou safe in thine infirmity. 

ORALL. 

Speak him, Almagro, if thou art not false; 
Tell thou mine uncle, 'tis the Inca speaks. 

ALM. 

Marry not I. I know thee very well, — 

Pedro the bondman, — my great sire's betrayer; 



548 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

For which black deed, the heavens have struck thy 

brain 
With this sore madness. 



ORALL. 

Talk'st thou of betraying? 
Now can I think that I indeed am mad, 
To think thee honest to thy love or me. — 
Doth no one know me? None of those, for whom 
I sold my heritage? What, not thou? nor thou? 
Chiefs that have battled at my side, and struck 
For Peru and for Oralloossa? Death! 
Ye stony traitors, have ye all forsook me? — 
Hark ! Ye Peruvians thronging on the hills, 
My children and my people! look upon me: 
I am your Inca, and will ye forsake me? 
For ye, I gave my sceptre to mine uncle; 
To win ye wisdom, made myself a slave; 
To quell your foes, and make ye free and great, 
Wrapped the pure lustre of my dignity 
In a foul cloak of treachery and lies, 
In servile, base and currish occupation, — 
And slew for ye your blood-stained Conquerors. 
Speak forth, Peruvians, — did I do ye this, 
And now no more ye know your Inca? — Hah! 
Are ye all turned to stones? What, not one voice, 
To bid me welcome to my throne again? 
Nay, then 'tis true; and I or rave or sleep; 
And Oralloossa is a dream. — Almagro, 
Dost thou remember Ooallie? Bethink thee, 
And say, thou didst not set them on to this; 
Say, thou hast no part in this treachery. 



ORALLOOSSA 549 

ALM. 

Then should I lie, more deeply than when first 

I trapped thy soul. — Thou devilish villain! thou, 

Steeped to the liver in my father's blood, — 

His friend and viper, his trust and his destroyer, — 

Bane of his fortunes, and the tool of mine, — 

Will it not smite thy cozened heart, to know 

I used thee? I enthralled thee? and did make thee, 

When thou wert wisest, then the most my fool, 

When thou wert freest, then the most my slave? 

Thou think'st, 'tis Manco and thy people doom thee: 

Be this thy comfort — it is I that do it! 

ORALL. 

The thunder sleeps: else should two hot bolts strike 

us — 
Me for my madness, thee for thy deceit. 
I was very honest with thee, and did mean thee 
More, for the Coya's sake, than thou didst dream. 
But 'tis no matter now: I am not Inca. — 
Perhaps ye will kill me — Pray ye, do it quick: 
All here is withered, and I should not live: 
I only breathe and dream, — no more. — 

OOAL. 

{Within.) 



Almagro, brother !- 



Ho, brother! 

ORALL. 

Another victim for ye! — 



550 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

(Enter Ooallie, pursued. Oralloossa seizes her.) 

Look, thou infernal and pernicious fiend! 

This was thy gage, and now shall perish for ye! 

(They rush towards him.) 
Ha ! ha ! — a knife — blood — blood — 
(He falls in a swoon.) 

OOAL. 

Alas, my brother ! 
Help, help, Almagro! — Do not tear me from him: 
There's none but me to love him. — Almagro! 
Thou shouldst not do this thing. 



MANC. 



OOAL. 



Drag her away. — 



Wilt thou (To Alm.) not look upon me? — Pray you, 

uncle, 
Let not my brother die. 

(They raise up Oralloossa.) 

manc. 

Thy brother, woman! 
Is this the sequel of thy shame? that thou, 
To be defended in thy wantonness, 
Leagu'st with this man, and madly call'st him Inca? 
Unhappy wretch, mark thou the punishment. 
Chiefs and Peruvians, behold the daughter 
Of Incas, and the Conqueror's paramour! 
Her doom is spoken by our ancient laws : 
A grave for her dishonour. 



ORALLOOSSA 551 

OOAL. 

O mine uncle ! — 
Almagro, speak; am I not innocent? — 
God of the sun, thou turn'st away thine eyes ! — 
Brother and Inca! hark, they doom my death: 
Thou art the Inca, and canst save me. 

ORALL. 

I! 

Save thee? — a paramour? — the laws? — a grave? — 
Thou root'st out all my father's drooping stock, 
Nor leav'st a leaf to wither. Now I know thee! 
Why should I speak with thee, that art a fiend? 
I'll turn me to the Spaniards. Hark, Almagro: 
Thou hast undone me — I forgive thee that ; 
Cajoled me to the grave — but I forgive thee: 
Thou art not yet so base as mine own people : 
I say, I pardon thee — But look to her; 
It needs not she should die. Art thou still silent? 
Thou know'st, thou hell-cat, that, when I had doomed 

thee, 
This young wretch saved; my knife was at thy throat, 
When she unedged it; I did seek thy heart, 
And she did shield thee with her bosom. — Look, 
She is very innocent, very pure and sinless: 
Wilt thou not save her? O then madness seize thee, 
Leper thy brain, and break thy heart by inches! — 
Spaniards, that are my hateful enemies, 
Can ye look on, and see this maiden murdered? 
Innocent murdered? 



Cousin Almagro — 



CHRIST. 

By our lady, no! 



552 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



Remember !- 



ALM. 

Hist ! Art thou grown mad ? 



ORALL. 

I did wrong thee. — Speak again: 

Thou art his kinsman — Nay, and so am I : 

That will not move. But speak again, I pray thee. 

Wilt thou be silent, when thy voice can save her? 

MANC. 

The doom is past — the sin is manifest. 

ORALL. 

False churl, thou doom'st her with a lie! — 

MANC. 

Away! 
(They seize upon Ooallie and Oralloossa.) 
Away with both. Our laws cannot be broken. 

ORALL. 

Grant she be doomed then by those laws, base uncle, 
I am the Inca, and I abrogate them. — 
She shall not die. — 

MANC. 

Away with both — the madman 
Unto his cell, the Coy a to her grave! 

(Oralloossa and Ooallie are forced away at different 
sides, as the curtain falls.) 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACT V 

SCENE I. The Camp of the Peruvians. Enter 
Almagro, Sotela, Christoval, Juan, and other 
Almagrists . 

ALM. 

Frown not upon me, friends, nor, rashly angered, 
Thwart the fair fortunes that now smile upon us. 
The foulest chapter of our fate is done, 
And all the rest is just and prosperous. 

SOT. 

If he, that's chained now in yon crag-built tower, 
Be Oralloossa, that which follows after, 
Cannot be just; but 'tis enough, 'tis wise. 
Doth he still live? 

ALM. 

Ay, if his spirit's fire 
Have left it unconsumed. Leave him to Manco. 
I heard the Inca give to certain chiefs 
Such hints, as are a sentence. 

SOT. 

And the Coy a? 
Shall she still slumber in the dreary cave? 

553 



554 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

'Tis now the hour the priest should be prepared. 
What say'st thou, cousin? 

CHRIST. 

I wait his reverence. 
He hath gone into the dungeon, to prepare 
The downfaln Inca for his doom: God speed him. 
'Tis time the picks were plying; for no man 
Can say what horrors, in that secret den, 
May war with life. — < I would I were home again ! — > 
The Viceroy's army too approaches us : 
Who knows, these fooled Peruvians will fight 
For any chief, but him that's their true master? 

ALM. 

Fear not for that. — Friends to your posts and charges. 
<Come thou (To Christ.) with me. I must instruct 

thee yet 
What more to counsel for this luckless maid.> 

(Exeunt.) l 

1 The acting version eliminates Sc. II, but adds at this point 
the following lines, connecting Sc. I and Sc. III. 

['Tis Juan comes — what's this his changed face, 

Pale herald of calamity? (Enter Juan.) 

Thou has been fellow to a fear. 

What hast thou known? 

JUAN 

A doom'd one's desperation, 

Oralloossa's rage — the Friar's mortal throes. 



The Friar's. 



ORALLOOSSA 555 

< SCENE II. A room in an old tower. Oralloossa 
discovered. Enter the Priest and a Peruvian Chief. 

PRIEST 

Is that the prisoner? Miserable wretch! — 
Nay, get thee gone; leave me alone with him, 
To work upon his spirit as I may. 

{Exit Chief.) 

Captive, arise; the fatal hour comes on, 

When thou must hide thy misery in the grave. — 

Are thy chains heavy, that thou canst not rise? 

JUAN 

Cold as the caverned rocks he lies, 
The cell unbarred the Inca strangled him; 
The arrowy sun shaft flashed athwart the gloom, 
Its potent ray aroused from seeming death. 
The prisoner's mighty form, with fierceness fired. 
"My father, lo!" he cried, and madly shook 
Aloft his iron bonds — the Friar quailed; 
Overcome by terror to the earth he fell, 
And on his throat the furious Indian trod. 







ALM. 






The aged prelate slain ! 




JUAN 








M: 


ine were 


his dying 


words — 


The prisoner. 




ALM. 






Aye of 


him. 


JUAN 




He fled afar, 


Tracking his path with gall. 












ALM. 






Strike for your lives.] J 




Escaped. 




1 See Sc. III. 











556 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

Chains? — Look — they have rotted. — But there was no 

need, 
When my heart wither 'd. — Art thou come to slay me? 
My breast is open to thee — Strike, and deeply: 
'Twere better I were graved. 

PRIEST 

Unhappy prince, 
My mission is of mercy, not of murder. 

ORALL. 

Wilt thou not strike? But that thou know'st, to kill 

me 
Would do me joy, thou wouldst not falter now. 
All things oppress; the very chains drop off, 
To mock me with the thought of liberty. — 
But then the iron still is at my heart. 

PRIEST 

Alas, no longer ponder on thy griefs; 

But give thy thoughts to death, and that that's after. 

Thou wert a Christian once, and shouldst be yet. 

ORALL. 

I was an Inca once, and should be yet ; 
That was a dream : I was a man, and should be; 
But that was madness. Like the fool, that lies 
On earth and rags, and dreams his soul inhabits 
The golden-canopied chambers of a palace, — 
So lay I on my bleak and flinty floor, 



ORALLOOSSA 557 

And built me gorgeous nothings; wherein I moved 
Among sweet visages, — but they were fiends. 
They wreathed a coronet round my brow — 'twas fire; 
And round mine arm the royal mantle — ashes : 
Made me a sceptre of a chain — and look! 
'Tis broke — my sceptre and my chain: And lo, 
A delicate angel grew upon mine eye — 
Dust, dust and death! 

PRIEST 

No more of this bethink thee ; 
But of thy holy faith, and of thy sins; 
Of death and judgment, for they come upon thee; 
Of heaven and hell; of those that watch thy fate, 
The awaiting angels — 

ORALL. 

Fiends and demons all! 
There was but one that was an angel, and 
The clod lies on her bosom. — Wilt thou kill me? 
Behold, I will not harm thee. If I broke 
The links that bound me, wherefore should I fly? 
And whither? I should hunt me but a grave. 
Silence, and darkness, and forgetfulness. 

PRIEST 

Ah me, the grave is nearer than thy wish. 
The coming Viceroy fills all with affright, 
And hurries on thy execution. 



I slew the Viceroy ! 



ORALL. 

The Viceroy ! 



558 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PRIEST 

Yes, cajoled Pizarro. 
Another holds the sceptre, and with armies 
Hourly increasing, in these hills surrounds us. 

ORALL. 

With Spaniards? 

PRIEST 

Ay. And had they but a guide, 
To thread the desert paths unto our camp, 
We needs must perish. — 

ORALL. 

Hah, hah! The sun is up! 
The cloud has left his frowning countenance, 
And I shall set with splendour. — Hearken, man! 
Ere I do die, the demons that betrayed me, 
Shall know the avenger! Yea, I will live on, 
To make requital. For the knaves that marred me, 
They shall e'en perish; for those things, that were 
My house, and knew me not, — my forsworn people, 
That cast me off, — I give them to the enslaver ! 
Fit for naught else — it is their destiny ! 

PRIEST 

Do me no violence — 

ORALL. 

To my dungeon door! 
To bid my keeper open to thee. — If 
Thou stirr'st, or speak'st a word but that I bid thee, 
I'll hurl thee from the cliff, to feed the condors. — 
Bid him to open wide, and — for my vengeance ! 

{Exit, dragging the Priest.) > 



ORALLOOSSA 559 

SCENE III. A part of the Peruvian Camp. Cries 
and shouts. — Enter Almagro, Sotela, Christoval, 
and Juan. 

ALM. 

Strike for your lives ! A thousand marks of gold 
To him that stops or slays him. 

SOT. 

Nay, 'tis fruitless. 
Heaven, that was angered at our treachery, 
Preserves him for our punishment. 

ALM. 

Behold! 
They flag, and follow not! <Oh heaven, with curses 
Punish this villain priest ! 

SOT. 

And has heaven not? 
His mangled corse at the rock's basis lies, 
The first blood-offering of our destiny. 
And what shall follow now but woe and ruin?> 
He will gain from us his Peruvians, 
And leave us friendless to the Viceroy. 

CHRIST. 

Yea: 
This is't to be dishonest! I did think, 
There could no good come of such knavish ways. 

ALM. 

Why dost thou prate thus? All is not yet lost. 
Interest and fear must keep the Inca ours; 
And a quick moved assault of all our forces, 
May lame, or kill, the enemy. 



560 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SOT. 

This is best, — 
Instant assault. 

CHRIST. 

Why I will fight with any. 
But while we talk of death, must we forget 
The buried princess? 

ALM. 

Do what thou wilt, and quickly. 

CHRIST. 

It is this wrong to her that weighs thee down, 
And sets the Saints against thee. 

ALM. 

Save her life. 
If that thou canst, and now no more reproach me. 
Hence to the cave: and come with me, the rest, 
To spur the Inca to some stratagem, 
Some feat, may save us, though the captive fly. 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE IV. The Viceregal Camp. Enter De 
Castro, Alcantara, and other Spaniards. 

DE CAST. 

This is the act of madness, — Oralloossa, 

The only leader that could general them, 

Dethroned; and, in his place, the fireless Manco, 

Or the hot boy, Almagro. It is thus, 

Heaven, when 'twould punish treachery, doth arm 

Its rage against itself. It is the scorpion, 



ORALLOOSSA 561 

Girded by fiery troubles, whose mad fury 
Finds all its venom aimed but at itself. 
Was it not said, they had resolved his death? 



Even so, my lord. 



ALC. 



DE CAST. 



Their anger aids us well. 
That fallen chief, ere this, had struck some blow; 
But they deliberate. 



ALC. 

Were it not safest, 
T' entrench here quickly, lest their countless thousands 
Should e'en surround us? 

DE CAST. 

Nay, we will march on, 
And with no fear of this rude multitude. 
<The virtue of an army lies not in 
The stormy members, but in the sole head 
That guides and governs, — in our day, at least, 
While men, like ignorant beasts of burthen, only 
Do well, when well directed: The self same squadrons, 
With that man, who will conquer all the world, 
With this, will fly the mere frown of a foe. 
Perhaps, in future times, when men become, 
What heaven ordained them, each himself a man, 
The vigour then of martialness will rest 
Less with the leader than the led ; and armies, 
Ungeneralled, unadvised, will deeds achieve, 
That shall fill earth and history with their glory. > 
36 



562 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Find me a guide can lead me through these rocks, 
And ye shall see these madmen at our feet. — 
What thing is that — what shape of dust and blood — 
They bring before me? — Speak, what art thou? 

{Enter Carvahal [Cordova] leading Oralloossa, 

wounded.) 

ORALL. 

Vengeance ! 
I shall not die, until I have my vengeance. 

CARV. 

This man, my lord, our advanced posts received, 
A fugitive from the foe, and hotly followed, 
And as thou seest, pursued almost to death. 

DE CAST. 

What art thou, bleeding wretch? 

ORALL. 

Your slave, the Inca! 

DECAST. 

Hah! dost thou say? — 

ORALL. 

Your slave, the holy Inca! 
King of these hills and herds, your self-sworn slave: 
Child of the deity, and yet your slave; 
That wretch, that slave, the Inca Oralloossa! 



ORALLOOSSA 563 



DE CAST. 

Most wretched man, art thou at last forsook 

Of those that spurred thee to thy deeds of blood? 

ORALL. 

Forsook, cast off, cajoled, betrayed, destroyed! 
My people gave me to mine enemies. 
Fettered and mocked me, smote me on the face, 
And filled my body with these wells of death, 
And sent me to the Spaniard for revenge ! 
I am thy slave now ; put thy chains upon me, 
And let me serve thee! — I will teach thee how 
To creep upon those wolves, that were Peruvians, 
And smite them with the sword. They gave me up, 
And I do give them to thee for a prey, — 
To be your footballs and your slaves forever. 

DE CAST. 

Poor wretch, thou ravest! 

ORALL. 

Art thou not a man? 
And wilt thou not have blood ? Chain me, and follow : 
Thou shalt have Manco for thy knife; Almagro 
For ropes and flames; my people for your beasts. 
They would be slaves, and I will have them so. 
Will you your anger and your vengeance glut ? 
Will you have blood? Almagro's blood? his heart's 

blood? 
Chain me and follow me, — ye shall have all; 
For your revenge but bears me on to mine. 



564 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

<DE CAST. 

How shall I trust thee, that hast ever been 
The foe of Spaniards? 

ORALL. 

Am not I indeed 
Helpless and miserable — wounded now to death? 
And will ye talk of doubting? Am not I 
The only one can guide ye through these hills ? 
Put chains upon me, if ye'll have it so; 
And ready let some stand with spears, to slay me, 
When I deceive, or when the slaughter's o'er: — 
Let me but live to see't, and live no longer. > 

DE CAST. 

Guide me with faith, and I will set thee yet 
Upon thy father's throne. 

ORALL. 

'Tis fallen forever. 
There is no Inca, and no more shall be. 
Give me my vengeance, and my father's grave: 
It is enough. 

DE CAST. 

First let thy wounds be stanched. 

ORALL. 

Will ye then palter, till I die? Advance, 

While I have strength to lead ye. Follow now. — 

Manco ! I come — Let me but live to see it ! 

{Exeunt.) 



ORALLOOSSA 565 

SCENE V. Before the Cavern. Enter Christoval, 
Juan, and several other Spaniards, with picks and crows. 

CHRIST. 

This is the cave. — Hark ! dost thou hear no voice ? 

Hist, princess ! Ooallie ! — Now by this hand, 

My blood runs chilly. — Should the fright have slain 

her! 
Or some foul reptile, here walled up with her! — 
It was the rankest villany. — Look thou out 

(To Juan, who with one or two others retires). 
That none approach us. — Would I were home again ! 
Give me a pick. — Toil with your greatest speed, 
And all in silence, lest fierce Manco hear. 
Wrench out these stones: they keep from heaven's fair 

light 
The lovingest wretch that ever man betrayed. 

(A shout.) 
What is the matter? — 

JUAN 

Fly ! We are surprised — 

OR ALL. 

(Within.) 
Strike them, and give no mercy ! Did I not tell ye 
Ye should destroy them? Ha, Ha! — 

(Enter Oralloossa, De Castro, Alcantara, and 
others of the Viceroy's party.) 

<CHRIST. 

Give the alarm ! — > 



566 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ORALL. 

A Spaniard! Hah, a murderer! 

{He wounds Christoval, who is supported. The others 
of his party are driven out.) 

CHRIST. 

I am slain. — 
Art thou the Inca ? Then this blow repays 
Much of thy grief; but strikes the innocent. 

ORALL. 

Nay, now I know thee! — 
I am sorry I did strike thee, for thou wert 
The only honest villain of them all, — 
And the poor fool that spoke for Ooallie! 

CHRIST. 

Ay, Ooallie! that is the Coya's name. 

The heavens have smote thee with sore madness, Inca : 

Thou fight'st against thyself; <each thrust is aimed 

Against thy dearest hopes; each blow falls on 

Some one that serves thee.> When thou slew'st the 

friar, 
Thou kill'dst thy sister. 

ORALL. 

Hah! 

CHRIST. 

That man was sworn 
To pluck her from the tomb, < and would have done it, 
Hadst thou not killed him. 



ORALLOOSSA 567 

ORALL. 

Misery! Speak on — 
I slew mine only friend ! 

CHRIST. 

No, not thine only. 
I am the last and only;> me thou killest 
For the same office. — Look, this is the cavern, 
Wherein she lies; and, with these picks, came I, 
If not too late, to draw her forth. 

ORALL. 

Ah ! — wretch ! 
Wretch that I am, I strike at all that love me. 

(Christoval is led out.) 

Mad, very mad! the deity has left me. — 
Do ye stand still ? Toil for your lives, toil all ! 
Quick, quick, if ye be men — She is not dead! 
Toil, toil, toil, toil!— 

(He rolls away the stones from the cavern, and others 
assist him.) 

DE CAST. 

This is a sad mishap. 
Most wretched prince, thy strength is not for this. 
Come <thou aside, > and let my people toil. — 

ORALL. 

There — pause! — put arms to this — Hark, hark, I 

hear her ! 
She screams for succour! Stand away — Ha, ha! 
I hear her ! — Ooallie ! — 

(He enters the cave.) 



568 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

DE CAST. 

This is the saddest 
Of all this war's most sad occurrences. — 
Quick ! Give him aid — 

(Re-enter Oralloossa, from the cave, bearing Ooallie 
dead.) 

ORALL. 

Fresh air ! a drop of water ! — 
Look, if she live ! Why princess ! sister ! wake ! — 
Nay, she is very cold. 

DE CAST. 

Thy care is vain. — 

ORALL. 

Save but her life, and I will live your slave, 
And love ye ! O ye have some Christian arts 
Might make her breathe again ! What if she be 
So still and cold — 'tis but a swoon. 



DE CAST. 

This is no swoon, but death. 

ORALL. 



Away — 



Yea! — Misery 
Strikes sorest at the innocent. — Thou seest! 
She was my sister. — Well, take her from my sight. - 
She was the only angel in mine eye — 
Mine orphan sister — A soft and loving heart — 
A meek and gentle spirit — A very warm soft heart- 
Ice, ice! — Take her away — 

(She is carried back to the cavern.) 



ORALLOOSSA 569 

DE CAST. 

Unhappy prince ! — 

ORALL. 

Black, bloody, fiendish — Let the murderers die! — 
Almagro — Manco — Dead — my sister — Blood ! — 
{He swoons.) 

<DE CAST. 

What, doth he follow her? Nay, he will revive. — 
Lay him i' the cavern at her side, until 
The assault be o'er. And let each heart remember, 
When armed against th' Almagrists, 'twas Almagro 
That wrought this frightful and this cruel deed : 
Remember this, and as ye strike, revenge !> 
{Alarums. The scene closes, as they go out, and as 
some carry Oralloossa to the cave.) 

SCENE VI. In the Peruvian Camp. Enter Al- 
magro, Sotela, Manco, and several Chiefs. Alarums. 

ALM. 

Assailed? and now forsaken by the Inca? 

SOT. 

It is the fruit of one unhappy error. 

Speak thou with Manco, with what fire thou canst; 

I 'to the lines, to check the foe awhile. 

{Exit.) 

ALM. 

Why dost thou falter, Inca? Bid thy people 
Rush on the foe: their numbers will o'erwhelm him. 



570 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

MANC. 

Thou hast deceived me, Spaniard. 

ALM. 

I have made thee 
Inca; and, for thy aims, have blurred my name 
With a foul act : And wilt thou now desert me ? 

MANC. 

My people will not fight: they steal away; 

The chieftains fly with them, and say, 'twas thou 

Unchained the captive, who is with the Viceroy. 

ALM. 

Foul liars all ! The Inca with the Viceroy ! 

MANC. 

Was it not he, that slew thy cousin? 

ALM. 

My cousin slain? 

MANC. 

Even at the cave, where thou 
Didst plot new treachery — treachery to me ; 
For which I leave thee to thy fate. 

ALM. 

O heavens, 
Comes it to this? I pray thee, leave me not: 
I broke no faith with thee. Or, if thou fliest, 
Leave me some succour from thy thousands. 



ORALLOOSSA 571 

MANC. 

Not one. 
They do my bidding, when they leave thee, — scatter- 
ing 
Each for his hiding place. They are dispersed. 

ALM. 

Dispersed ! Nay then, false churl, thou hast destroyed 

me. 
And yet, I pray thee, for thy own good weal, 
(For, without me, thou art no longer monarch,) 
Leave me not rashly. 

MANC. 

Ay — farewell : thy destiny 
Is dark'ning, and thy planet sinks to night; 
And all that rest with thee, will perish with thee. 

{Exit Manco, with the Chiefs.) 

ALM. 

Perfidy, perfidy! thy sting is now 
In mine own bosom. — 

(Alarums. . . . Enter Juan.) 

What! why fliest thou? 
'<Back with me to the front for death or victory !> 

JUAN 

<For death alone. — Fly, if thou canst, and fleetly. > 
The lines are forced, the foes are at my back; 
Thy friends are slain. — 

1 The acting version transposes this line to the third speech of 
Almagro below. " Now is my falsehood," etc. 



572 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

Where is Sotela? 

JUAN 

Dead: 
All dead, or captive. — Hark! 



Back to our friends! 



ALM. 

They call for me ! 



JUAN 

They are thy foes, that call. 
Wilt thou be ta'en, to die upon a block? 

ALM. 

Now is my falsehood punished! — Do not leave me. 
{Exeunt Almagro and Juan.) 

{Enter, at the opposite side, De Castro, Alcantara, 
and others of the Viceroy's party.) 

DE CAST. 

It is a victory: But follow on. 

Rewards and honour to the man that takes 

Alive the rebel murderer, Almagro. 

(Exeunt.) 
SCENE VII. Before the Cavern. Distant shouts. 

<JUAN 

(Within.) 
Fly — save thyself — I die! — > 

(Shouts. Enter Almagro.) 



ORALLOOSSA 573 

ALM. 

What, left alone! 
All dead, that followed me! O heaven, I feel 
The arrow that thou strikest through my soul ! 
Would I had died in innocence, or ere 
I gave me up to comfortless ambition. — 
(Shouts.) 

They come! — Some nook for present shelter! — Here, 
This rock's abyss, that yawns like hell before me, 
Yet courts me on — A rock to cover me ! 
(He enters the cave.) 

SCENE VIII. The interior of the Cavern. The 
body of Ooallie on a distant shelf. Oralloossa dis- 
covered reviving. Distant shouts. 

ORALL. 

Ah! gloom, black gloom — Among the world of spirits, 

But solitary. — Yet the curses ring, 

And the long yells, as on the madding earth; 

And the pang quivers in my flesh, and darkness 

Covers my brain, as all were mortal still. — 

Again ? again ? And where be those that shriek ? 

Ah! but I dreamed her corse was at my side, 

And her cold cheek upon my breast. — An Inca, 

Shut in the funeral cave — Again? Approach, 

If ye be fiends, and look upon a man 

Worn with more miseries than yourselves ! — Oho ! 

(Enter Almagro. Shouts.) 
They come, they come! and this one hath an aspect 
Of a thrice damned demoniac ! — 



574 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

ALM. 

Ah, they follow! 
Yet am I safe. — 

ORALL. 

Ha, ha! 

ALM. 

O saints, a voice, 
Howling with laughter, in this pit! — A man! — 
What art thou? Speak! 

ORALL. 

Ha, ha! The sun, the sun! 
He will not have his child go darkling down! 
Thou beest Almagro! ho! Almagro! 



And thou? 



ALM. 

Heaven ! 

ORALL. 



The miserable. — Look, thou man, 
That turn'dst this day to darkness, and, from thrones, 
Com'st to the den where Ooallie doth lie. — 

ALM. 

Christ, her grave, her grave ! 

ORALL. 

Yea, in her grave, 
The fiend that filled thee with her blood, hath left 

thee; 
He gives thee to me, gives to Oralloossa! — 



ORALLOOSSA 575 

Lo, buried Incas ! he that broke your sceptre, 
Is in my hand! Look up, dead Ooallie, — 
The slayer perishes! 

ALM. 

O, mine arm is nerveless! 
(Oralloossa strikes him down.) 

ORALL. 

My uncle chained me, — it was thou that taught him; 
My people left me, — it was thou corrupted; 
My sister perished, — it was thou that doomed her ! 
The Inca wept — but is I that smite thee! 

{He stabs him. Enter De Castro, and the rest.) 

DE CAST. 

This way he fled — What ! tear them asunder ! 

ORALL. 

Ho! 
{He kills Almagro.) 

Thy blood is mixed with mine. — 

DE CAST. 

Raise up his head. — 

ORALL. 

Hard by the victim — Look — it is accomplished. 
Grind them to dust! — I give them for thy slaves — 
The maid! — the murderer! — To the grave — The 
Inca. — 

{He dies. Tableau.) 

THE END. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 

The following text of The Broker of Bogota is 
based primarily upon the complete manuscript 
copy, made by Mrs. Bird, wife of the dramatist, 
in the collection of Bird papers at the Library 
of the University of Pennsylvania. In the collec- 
tion are also two autograph copies of the play, 
both incomplete. The text has also been collated 
with the acting version in the Edwin Forrest 
Home at Holmesburg, Pennsylvania. Additions 
from this version are indicated by square brack- 
ets; omissions of word, line, or scene are enclosed 
in brackets of this form : < > . 

The Broker of Bogota was finished in January, 
1834, and first produced by Edwin Forrest at the 
Bowery Theater, New York, on February 12th 
of the same year. Its success was marked and 
immediate, the part of Baptista Febro becoming 
a permanent role in Forrest's repertoire. 



577 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 
A Tragedy 



579 



CHARACTERS 

Marques de Palmera, Viceroy of New Granada. 
Fernando, his son. 
Baptista Febro, the broker. 

Ramon ) , . 

_ r his sons. 

Francisco ) 

Mendoza, a merchant, father of Juana. 

Antonio de Cabarero, a profligate, friend of Ramon. 

Pablo, an inn keeper. 

Silvano, servant of Febro. 

Leonor, daughter of Febro. 

Juana, daughter of Mendoza. 

Gentlemen of the Court, Citizens, Alguazils. 

Scene, Santa Fe de Bogota. 



580 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 

ACT I 

SCENE I. The Street near Febro's house. {Enter 
Mendoza and Ramon.) 

mendoza. 

You have your answer. Come no more near my house : 
I'll have no disobedient, disinherited sons there. 
<Come no more near to me. > 

RAM. 

Senor Mendoza, you make my unhappiness my crime 
and condemn me for my misfortune. 

MEN. 

Truly, I have so learned to criminate misfortune ever 
since I found that, when one grief springs from ill 
fate, twenty come from our own faults. I have 
never known a young man sink in the world, 
without finding he had overburdened himself with 
follies. 

RAM. 

If you will listen to me, I will show you how much you 
wrong me. 

58i 



582 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

MEN. 

Wrong you? I wrong you not: you are your own 
wronger. < I should be glad to be rid of you. > 

RAM. 

You treat me with much shame, sefior; but, for your 
daughter's sake, I forgive you. 

MEN. 

So would I that your father did you for my daughter's 
sake; for then might I think of you for a son. But 
now, you must pardon me — Think no more of 
that. 

RAM. 

Senor Mendoza, I have your promise to wed Juana. 

MEN. 

I made that promise when you were your father's heir ; 
and I break it, now that you are your father's 
outcast. I will have no discarded son for my 
child's husband, believe that. 

RAM. 

My father will restore me to his favor. 

MEN. 

When he does that, I will perhaps take thee to mine, — 
not before. < Fare thee well, senor. > 

RAM. 

Senor Mendoza, it is said you will marry Juana <to 
another? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 583 

MEN. 

And if I do, senor, who is to gainsay me?> 

RAM. 

To Marco, the young merchant of Quito? 

MEN. 

Content thee, senor Ramon, Marco is neither discarded 
nor poor, nor ill spoken of; and will be a good 
husband for a good man's daughter. < Farewell 
— Come to me no more. > 

RAM. 

By heaven, it shall not be! 

MEN. 

Oho! it shall not be! You are the King of Castile, 
senor < Ramon ! > You will have fathers marry 
their children to men of your choosing ! 

RAM. 

Senor, you will break my heart. It is enough to lose 
my father, my family — all — yet you will rob me of 
my betrothed wife. 

MEN. 

Betrothed to Baptista Febro's heir, not to Ramon the 
penniless and houseless. < You are scurrilous. > 
I will talk with you no more. Farewell — and 
come no more near me: my daughter is not for 
you. (Exit.) 



584 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

RAM. 

Misery follow thee, thou false old churl, 
And age's torments ! till they rack as sore 
As the fresh pangs and agonies of youth. 
Perhaps his daughter is not much averse; 
Yet many an oath, with many a sigh, of old, 
Breathed she for truth and loving constancy. 

(Enter Cabarero.) 

CAB. 

Hola, Ramon! brother Sorrowful! Sefior Will-o'-the- 
wisp ! are you there ? I have been seeking <for> 
you. 

RAM. 

I should think then thou hadst some execution upon 
me ; for who else now seek me but my creditors? 

CAB. 

Why, thy true friends, thy true friends (for am not I a 
host?), thy true friends, Cabarero. Come now, 
hast thou been petitioning thy father? 

RAM. 

I tell thee, I had better ask an alms of the cutthroat 
on the highway, than of my father. 

CAB. 

<An alms! > Oh, thou art the smallest-souled pretty 
fellow in all Granada here. Why dost thou talk 
of an alms? Art thou not thv father's eldest son? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 585 



RAM. 



Had I been the youngest, I should have been the 

happier. 



CAB. 



Yea, thou shouldst have been a counter of beads, a 
beggar of blessings, a winner of the elder brother's 
portion. Pish! thy brother Francisco is a rogue; 
he has ousted thee from thine inheritance. 



RAM. 

If any one have done that, thou art the man. I am 
ruined, Cabarero, and thou art my destroyer. 

<CAB. 

Now, I think thou art repenting of thy sins; but thou 
goest about it the wrong way. > 

RAM. 

Look, Cabarero, there is my father's roof. There is no 
swallow twittering under its eaves, that has a 
merrier heart or a gayer song, than were mine 
once, when I was a boy under it. 

CAB. 

Ay, faith, and that wast because thou wert a boy, a 
silly boy. Now wert thou a man, a discreet and 
reasonable man, thou wouldst be even as merry as 
before. <Thou dost not think thou wert born 
to be always in a grin ? > 



586 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

RAM. 

I was the eye of my mother, the heart of — <my 
father > ; my sister loved me; my brother — <ay, 
and my brother > — ay, they all loved me; and 
there was no one that did not smile on me, from 
the priest at the confessional to the beggar at the 
door. By St. James, I had many friends then; 
and I deserved their favor, for I was of good fame 
and uncorrupted. 

CAB. 

I see thou art a man whose head is likely to be as 
empty as his pockets. 'Slife! uncorrupted? 
<Thy nose uncorrupted ! > Bad luck is the lot 
of the best. 

RAM. 

Antonio, I say, thou hast destroyed me. Until I knew 
thee, I abhorred shame, and <it is true> my 
hand was as stainless as an infant's. 

CAB. 

It was thy father's scurvy covetousness that put thee 
on to showing thy spirit. 

RAM. 

Thou didst delude me. By the heaven which has 
deserted me, I did not think this hand could rob! 

CAB. 

Pho, thou art mad ! Remember thou art in the street. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 587 

RAM. 

That is the word, Antonio. — I robbed him — robbed 
him like a base thief: and then I became the 
outcast. 

CAB. 

And then thou becam'st a fool ! Thou didst but take 
<what was> a part of thine inheritance. 

RAM. 

<And> yet he forgave me that! 

CAB. 

He did not hang thee, for that would have brought 
shame on his house. [Forgave thee!] He forced 
thee to be foolish, and then discarded thee — 
turned thee off like a sick servant — abandoned 
thee. 

RAM. 

<I think he should not have done that. Had he 
forgiven me that! 

CAB. 

Forgive! Nay, he forgave old Miguel the mule-driver 
a debt that would have kept thee in bread for a 
year; and yet it was evident to all that Miguel 
cheated him. But to forgive his own flesh and 
blood is another matter. 

RAM. 

He forgave Miguel because he besought his pardon: 
I have not yet besought him. Dost thou re- 
member the holy history of the prodigal ? > Per- 
haps if I humble myself to him, he will forgive me. 



588 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CAB. 

If thou art of that mind, thou may'st see, o' the in- 
stant, how he will spurn thee. Look, he is here, 
with thy sister, and — Pho! thou tremblest! — 
Tis Mendoza, father of thy fair Juana. 

(Febro, with Leonor and Mendoza, crosses the stage.) 

RAM. 

He has discarded me too, and Juana is given to 
another. How can I entreat him? See, he will 
not look upon me ! 

LEON. 

Father, will you not speak? It is my brother Ramon. 

FEB. 

The carrion vulture with him. — Get thee in. 
I would I had no sons — What ? in, I say ! 

{Exit Leonor into the house.) 
Sefior Mendoza, what you have said is well: 
I must needs own the contract was too rash. — 
We are both agreed it shall not bind us more. 
I hear young Marco is a worthy man: 
Give him your daughter and heaven bless the match. 
Will you enter, sefior? 

men. 

I thank your favor, no. 
This thing despatched, I will to other business. 
Good evening, sefior. 

FEB. 

You will be happy, friend — 
Take no wild hothead boy to be your son : 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 589 

Look to his friends : If Marco have but one 
Loves mirth more than integrity, discard him. 
These gadflies are our curses — Fare you well. 
{Exeunt Mendoza and Febro , the latter into the house.) 

CAB. 

Oh! o' my conscience, a loving father! 

RAM. 

He gave me no encouragement to speak to him. Had 
he but looked upon me kindly, that look would 
have cast me at his feet. 

CAB. 

What, at his feet? Not if he were twenty times your 
father. < 'Slid, at his feet! Why> he would 
have spurned thee. Didst thou hear? He has 
absolved Mendoza from the match, — robbed thee 
of Juana, — nay, and absolutely counselled the 
merchant to marry her to your rival. A loving 
and merciful father! He ruins thee every way. 
Were he mine own father, I would — 

RAM. 

What wouldst thou do? Thou wouldst not kill him? 

CAB. 

By mine honor, no. I hold any bodily harm done to 
one's parent altogether inexpiable. But I would 
not forgive him. 

RAM. 

I will not! 



590 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CAB. 

Why, that was said like a man. 

RAM. 

He forgives not me, he pardons not a folly, and how 
shall I forgive a cruelty? For a single weakness, 
he punishes me with all degradation and misery; 
expels me from his house; looks not on me in the 
street; leagues with those who wrong me; leaves 
me penniless and perishing; and even persuades 
another to break faith with me, and give my be- 
trothed to a stranger: And how shall I forgive 
him? 

CAB. 

Why, thou shalt not. 

RAM. 

I will not. I am even a desperate man; and so I will 
yield me up to the wrath of desperation. Art 
thou my true friend ? 

CAB. 

Else may I have no better hope than purgatory. 

RAM. 

We will kill the merchant of Quito. 

CAB. 

No, the saints forbid! no murder. He hath not money 
enough with him. 

RAM. 

Why, thou dost not think I will slay him for money? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 591 

CAB. 

And for what else should you be so bloody-minded? 
Thou art not mad enough to cut his throat be- 
cause he loves thy mistress? 

RAM. 

Thou knowest, if he live, he will marry her. 

CAB. 

Oh! she detests him, and loves you. 

RAM. 

Yet will she wed none her father mislikes; and her 
father likes not me. 

CAB. 

Wherefore? Because you have lost your father's 
favor? No, because you are called a wild fellow, 
and hate chapels? No. Because you are no 
longer the hopeful heir to Baptista Febro, the 
rich broker? Ay: there lies his disgust, thence 
comes his indignation. Now were you the veriest 
rogue in Bogota, he would love you well, so you 
had but money. 

RAM. 

Why do you tell me that? I know he is mercenary; 
nothing will win his heart but money, a curse on 
it! I would I were rich for Juana's sake; but for 
myself, I care not for gold — It has been the ruin 
of me. 



592 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CAB. 

Thou speakest like an innocent goose. Money, 
< sirrah !> 'tis the essence of all comfort and 
virtue. Thou carest not for gold ! Give me gold, 
and I will show thee the picture of philosophy, the 
credential of excellence, the cornerstone of great- 
ness. It is wisdom and reputation — the world's 
religion, mankind's conscience; and what is man 
without it? Pah! 'Tis as impossible honesty 
should dwell easily in an empty pocket, as good 
humor in a hollow stomach, or wit in a full one. 
Didst thou ever see integrity revered in an old 
coat, or unworthiness scorned in a new? <Thou 
carest not for gold!> 'Slife, it made my blood 
boil to hear you say so. 

RAM. 

Well, after all, as money or murder must rid me of my 
rival, tell me how one can be more easily come at 
than the other. 

CAB. 

Why, you rogue, there is our silver mine! We have 
been hunting it long; we must needs be near the 
vein. 

RAM. 

That stratagem is growing stale. I sware but this 
morning to an old friend, of whom I desired to 
borrow money that we had discovered the tomb 
of Bochica the Indian emperor, which was doubt- 
less as full of gold as the Inca's grave in Peru; 
but the knave laughed at me, <and said if I 
found no gold in it, I should have plenty brass. > 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 593 

CAB. 

The rascal ! and he lent thee no money ? 

RAM. 

Not a real. 

CAB. 

There is no gratitude among friends. <Do thy good 
offices to strangers; and courtesy will teach them 
the grace of thankfulness. Canst thou cheat 
nobody ? 

RAM. 

Cheat, Antonio? 

CAB. 

Pho! be not in a passion. All's honest that fetches 
money. > We must have gold, or Juana is lost. 

RAM. 

Ay — Set me to what roguery you will, so it may 
regain her. 

CAB. 

The tomb of Bochica, the Indian emperor! I know 
not by what hallucination it happens, but I never 
hear thee mention that, without thinking of the 
vaults of thy father. 

RAM. 

Hah! 

CAB. 

Now, were he not thy father, couldst thou not have 
the heart to rob him? 
38 



594 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

RAM. 

Rob him ! 

CAB. 

That is, as long as he oppresses thee so tyrannically. 
Faith, I would even steal mine own share. 

RAM. 

Thou dost not seriously advise me to be such a villain ? 

CAB. 

No, good faith — I ? I was jesting. But I will tell thee 
what thou shalt do. Thou shalt ask him for 
money. 

RAM. 

And have him spurn me again? 

CAB. 

Tell him thou art in danger of a prison. 

RAM. 

I will go near him no more. No more begging! The 
prison first. 

CAB. 

< Why, we must have money. I am sorry to tell thee, 
some evil rogues have disparaged us among the 
free gamesters, and they will be free with us no 
more. > Pablo the innkeeper is wrathful with 
thee, and says he must have money for thy food 
and lodging. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 595 

RAM. 

The villain ! He has had my last dollar. 

CAB. 

He is not so merciful as thy father; but he has har- 
boured thee long. Hearken — I will go to thy 
father. 

RAM. 

Thou! 

CAB. 

And entreat him for thee very piteously. 

RAM. 

< He will fill thy pockets with curses. 

CAB. 

Why, then I will cheat him. 

RAM. 

Cheat him? 

CAB. 

Oh, thou dost not care?> 

RAM. 

You may rob him, if you will: I care not. 

CAB. 

I will cheat him with good security, and will fetch thee 
the money. <But I must not give thee too much 
hope: he will think I borrow it for thee, and will 



596 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

refuse me. But > do thou in the meanwhile en- 
deavor to speak with Juana. Marco must not 
have her. 

RAM. 

Not if any new dye upon my soul can preserve her. 
<Do what you will, or can; and if you fail, we 
will consider another way to amend our for- 
tunes. > 

CAB. 

All the men of Bogota are our enemies — How many of 
them have money in thy father's hands? 

RAM. 

Why more than I can tell thee. But what has that to 
do with their enmity ? 

CAB. 

So much that if one were to break Baptista's vaults, 
we should have much feeding of grudges. 

RAM. 

Say no more of this. 

CAB. 

Look, here comes thy friend Mendoza again! 

RAM. 

Where? Nay, thou art mistaken: 'tis another, and a 
greater than Mendoza, and one not more our 
friend. Seest thou nothing beyond that muffled 
cloak ? It is the Viceroy. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 597 

CAB. 

The Viceroy! I warrant me, he is spying over us. 
What does he in disguise? and near thy father's 
house ? 

RAM. 

Perhaps I could tell thee. But let us be gone. He 

hardens my father against me. — Let him not see 

us. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. A room in Febro's house. {Enter 
Febro and Leonor.) 

FEB. 

Come hither, Leonora. What, my girl, 
That stranger youth I bade thee see no more, 
Dost thou still speak with him ? 

LEON. 

Alack, dear father, 
I hope you are not angry. 

<FEB. 

Is it so? 
Comes he still near thee? 

LEON. 

Oh, I am sure indeed, 
I never gave him countenance. > 

FEB. 

I charged thee 
Give him such scorn, if still he followed thee, 
As should have driven him from thee: for, indeed, 



598 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

These trashbrained idlers, that do follow thee, 
Sighing in chapel, staring in the street, 
And strumming silly lovesongs at thy window, 
They are but things of naught, — base, lazy rogues, 
That hunt for rich men's daughters for their prey, 
And now they haunt thy steps the more, because 
The broker, weak old Febro, that must die, 
In natural course of age, ere many years, 
Hath but two heirs to share his hoards. 

LEON. 

Dear father, 
Will you not then forgive my brother Ramon? 
I know he is very sorry he e'er grieved you; 
And on his heart your wrath must needs be heavy. 

FEB. 

If thou believ'st so, then, in time, beware 

It fall not upon thine. <In sooth, I think, 

Thou art leagued with him to vex me. — > O ye saints ! 

Punish these villains that seduce men's sons, 

Making them villains; and with vengeance follow 

The knaves that teach our daughters disobedience. 

LEON. 

Dear father, none shall teach me that. 

FEB. 

They shall not, 
When thou seest no more rogue Rolandos. 

LEON. 

Father, 
Indeed, I think, he is honest. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 599 

FEB. 

Nay, a knave! 
He doth not come to me, but ever shuns me. 
He hath no friends; no man in Bogota 
Hath made acquaintance with him : he flies all 
Like a scared thief, save only thee alone, 
< And comes to thee like one, cloaked, almost masked, 
As when he followed thee from the carnival. 
Now were my Ramon what in youth he was, 
He should be thy protector, and soon drive me 
This wasp away. 

LEON. 

If he return again, > 
I'll bid him come no more; — I will indeed, 
Till he has talked with you, and satisfied you. 

FEB. 

Why there's my girl ! Let him but come to me ; 
I'll tell him that I mean thee for another. 

LEON. 

Another, father! I do not wish to marry. 

FEB. 

Thus silly maids will talk ! Why, thou poor finch, 
A gentleman hath asked thee for his wife, — 
Rich, I assure thee, virtuous, honorable, 
And a hidalgo. 

LEON. 

And so is Roland, too. 



6oo DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Speak'st thou of Roland? Thou wilt anger me. 

He a hidalgo! By my faith, I think, 

Some heathenish villain, that with magic arts 

Hath wound about thy spirits. He I meant, 

Is Baltasar, son of Don Lucas Moron. 

Dost thou name him and Roland in a breath ? 

I' faith, thou stirr'st me, — 

(Enter Silvano.) 

What would'st tnou, Silvano? 

SILV. 

A customer to your worship. 

FEB. 

It is a holiday. 
I will no business do today. 

SILV. 

Your favour 
Must pardon me. It is his Excellency. 

FEB. 

His Excellency! oh thou foolish knave. 
To leave him waiting ! — 

(Enter Palmera.) 

Please, your noble highness, 
Pardon my silly fellow. 

PALM. 

Good Baptista, 
Forget my state, — it is too cumbersome. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 601 

I am even your humble suitor and poor friend. — 

My pretty Leonor! Now, by my life, 

Which like a desert river, flows away, 

I would some green and flourishing plant like thee 

Had rooted by my current : then indeed 

I should have seen the surges of my age 

Dash with a sweet contented music on, 

Nor thought their course was sterile. 

FEB. 

A silly maid. 
Your highness is too good. — Go, Leonora. 

(Exeunt Leonora <and Silvano. > ) 
< A silly maid! and yet, or I do dream, 
Loving and true. And yet — But that's no matter. — 
I am at your highness' bidding. > 

PALM. 

Sit down, Baptista. — 
Oh, then, I must be viceroy and command you. — 
I have much to say to thee. 

FEB. 

I am sorry your grace 

Did not command me to the palace. 

PALM. 

No. 
Perhaps I have a reason I could tell you. 
Febro, you have my confidence, and know, 
What were a wonder unto other men, 
How one can sit upon a viceroy's chair, 
Yet heap no wealth about him. 



602 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Please your highness, 
Your predecessors on Granada's throne, 
Ne'er found a lack of gain; and, sooth to say, 
I do remember when no mine could yield, 
Though by a thousand Indians daily wrought, 
So rich a revenue as the rod of state 
In one man's hands, were but that man the viceroy. 

PALM. 

Such was its wealth, and such may be again, 

To him with heart to use it. But for myself, 

I cannot stoop to use those under means, 

That fill the purse of office; and I would gnaw 

Sooner my food from off my barren trappings, 

Than gild them vilely with the fruits of fraud, 

Sales, bribes, exactions, and monopolies, 

The rich dishonour of prerogative. 

< I will this kingdom leave with no man's curse, 

And no man's scorn; and to mine own land bear 

Even the poor burden that I brought with me, 

An honest pride and pure integrity. 

'Tis from this thought that I make use of thee, 

Out of that lean estate I have, to win 

Such gain as my necessities require, 

And such as though my state must keep it secret, 

I have no shame to grasp at. 



FEB. 

Would indeed 
This principle should come with your successor. > 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 603 

PALM. 

I have some gold, which I would have you place 

Even at what profitable trade you can, 

But not in peril ; for indeed it is 

After some worthless antique lands in Spain, 

The only portion I can give my son, 

But now arrived in Bogota. 

FEB. 

Your highness 
Shall faithfully be served. 

PALM. 

I doubt not that. 
Soon as you will, some trusty messenger 
Send to the court, and he shall bear the gold. 

FEB. 

My son shall be despatched. 

PALM. 

Your son, Baptista! 

FEB. 

My son Francisco, — I dare assure your highness, 
A trusty youth, and most unequalled son. 

PALM. 

In sooth, I thought you meant his elder brother. 

FEB. 

Francisco, please your grace, — an excellent boy, 
<Mine only hope and comfort, — a dutiful son. > 



604 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

It is a holiday, and the youths have left 
Their prisoned warehouses, and look for mirth 
In the gay squares and streets, — all but Francisco. 
He nooks him at his desk, and still pores o'er 
The weary mysteries of accounts, as though 
Wisdom, as well as wealth, were writ among them. 

PALM. 

A commendable zeal. But tell me, Febro, — 
This should have been the elder brother's office. 
Pardon me, Febro ; but beshrew my heart, 
I speak to thee in friendship, when I meddle 
In family affairs. You are too harsh : 
Indeed it is the towntalk, your severity 
To your discarded son. 

FEB. 

It is the towntalk! 
The town will disobedience teach to children, 
Then censure fathers, who do punish them. 
This is the course, and justice of the town! 

PALM. 

But still, men say, the penance you inflict 
Is all too heavy for his boyish follies. 

FEB. 

Follies! No doubt, they told your excellency 
He idled at his task, sometimes made blunders, 
Played truant oft, and sometimes laughed at chapel- 
Such follies! 

PALM. 

No, I must needs own, for truth, 
They were of darker color, — running forth 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 605 

With youths disorderly and riotous, 
Unto the tavern and the gaming-house. 

FEB. 

Riotous friends ! 

Drinking and gambling! Sir, these are such follies 

In youth, as fraud and robbery in men; 

And he who clouds his dawn of life with such 

Shall have a fouller tempest for its close. 

PALM. 

And yet these are such ills as gentleness 
Might best reprove; and, for those after crimes, 
Surely your son has not plunged into them ? 

FEB. 

I do not say it ! There is no man dare say it. — 
I say, my Ramon is a foolish boy. 
Your highness cannot say I e'er accused him 
Of aught but folly. 

PALM. 

The more unwise your anger, 
Which may compel him into crime. Baptista, 
He is the only one of your three children 
Whose weakness vexes you. 

FEB. 

I'll not say that. 

PALM. 

What, Febro? And the paragon, Francisco? 

FEB. 

He never gave me pain. 



6o6 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



My pretty Leonor? 



PALM. 

And Leonor? 

FEB. 

The world's best daughter! 

PALM. 

foolish man, that art not yet content, 

When heaven that crowns thee with two perfect joys, 

Dashes a little gall upon the third ! 

<Wilt thou be harsher than all other sires, 

Because thou art happier? Oh, believe me Febro, 

There is no father but must much forgive; 

There is no father but must much lament ; > 

And I, that have but one child to mine age, 

And him would have an angel in my love, 

Even see him tainted with the spots of youth, 

And envy thee that hast such bliss with thine. 

FEB. 

Sir, I have heard the young Fernando bore him 
Like a most just and virtuous gentleman. 

PALM. 

And yet, though but few days in Bogota, 

His heart is tangled in a low intrigue, 

A base amour. But shall I drive him from me? 

1 will not ape thy cruelty, but bid thee 

Follow mine own mild counsels, which will give thee 
Thy son again, a loving penitent. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 607 



FEB. 



Sir, I would have him feel in sharp extreme 
The bitter issues of his degradation. 
'Tis need he feel them. 



PALM. 



They oppress him now : 
I saw him sad and moody near thy house, 
Humbled to earth. 



FEB. 



Ay! but with Cabarero! 
The villain that seduced him into folly, 
And still cajoles him on. He has his choice, — 
That caitiff, or his father — He has his choice! 



PALM. 



Well, well, think better of him. He loves the man, 
Who seems to be his fast unflinching friend. 
Think of my counsel. 



FEB. 



At your highness' feet ! 
Francisco shall attend you to the palace, — 
What, boy! Francisco! 



PALM. 



I prythee, keep thy house. 
I will not have thee follow to the doors. 



FEB. 

Your excellency's slave. 



{Exeunt.) 



608 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

SCENE III. The street at Febro's door. (Enter 
Silvano and Fernando.) 

SILV. 

I do wonder at your presumption, senor Rolando. 

FERN. 

And I do wonder at thine honesty. If thou wilt not 
for money, oh then for love bear my message to 
the fair Leonor. 

SILV. 

To peep from the window, and see how prettily thou 
wilt kiss thy hand to her! Art thou really a 
hidalgo ? 

FERN. 

I am really a hidalgo, a Spanish hidalgo. 

SILV. 

And your worship does really love my mistress ? 

FERN. 

My worship does most devoutly adore your divine 
mistress. 

SILV. 

And if you gain her good will, you will make her your 
worship's wife? 

FERN. 

If I gain her good will, I will fly straightway to the 
altar; <If not, I will e'en betake me to the 
halter. > 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 609 

SILV. 

Why, if thou wert an honest gentleman, thou would'st 
demand her of her father. He would be glad to 
have a hidalgo for a son. 

FERN. 

Oh, thou art a silly fellow. I am a poor hidalgo, which 
is naught to a rich commoner. 

SILV. 

Sefior Rolando, I like thy face indifferent well; but I 
think thou art some rogue, and no noble. 

FERN. 

If thou wilt be as loving as I am noble, hear my peti- 
tion, and beseech my young divinity to look from 
the window. 

SILV. 

Who knows? Why, sefior Febro is within. 

FERN. 

How shall he hear the silver voice of his daughter, 
when his ears are filled with the golden jingle of has 
coffers? 

SILV. 

Well, stay a moment till his excellency goes. 

FERN. 

His excellency ! What excellency ? 

SILV. 

Why, his excellency the Viceroy. <He is a great 
friend of my master. > 



610 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FERN. 

Oh! fire and furies! the Viceroy! Now, I remember 
me, I have to meet a friend in the great square. 

SILV. 

Stay, seflor Hidalgo, here comes his excellency. Sefior, 
you are a rogue! God be with you! (Exit 
Fernando.) Well, thou art a mysterious, good- 
for-nothing, agreeable rascal, I warrant me; and 
somehow, I begin to love thee. But thou hast a 
wholesome dread of great men. 

(Enter, from house, Palmera, Febro, and Francisco. 
Leonor appears at the door.) 

FEB. 

Heaven keep your excellence a thousand years! 
Thou hast thy charge, Francisco. — Heaven save your 
highness ! 

(Exeunt Palmera and Francisco.) 
Silvano, hast thou heard more things of Ramon ? 

SILV. 

Please your worship, I heard he was last night at 
Mateo's gambling house. 

FEB. 

The wretched boy! 

SILV. 

And, please your worship, he hurt one with his dagger 
for calling him a cheat. 

FEB. 

A cheat ! Would he had never been born ! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 611 

SILV. 

But then, it was a slander; or how should he have 
stabbed a man for telling the truth ? 

FEB. 

Ay, slander, Silvano ! He could not cheat. 

SILV. 

<And the gambler's boy that told me, he is a most 
notorious liar. 

FEB. 

I cannot but believe it was a lie. > 

SILV. 

And then, if he had cheated, he should have had 
money; whereas, they say, he is in great poverty; 
and Pablo the innkeeper threatens to put him in 
prison. 

FEB. 

In prison ! I have been too harsh. 

SILV. 

<But that, I think, is only to make your worship pay 
his debts; for Pablo is reckoned to be a rascal. 

FEB. 

Will Ramon agree to this roguery ? 
I will not pay a real. > 

SILV. 

Please your worship, I have heard no more of his 
doings. 



612 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Well, I did love him well, — but that's no matter. 

My Rachel loved him too, as her first born ; 

And, for a boy, he was the lovingest one 

Mine eyes ere looked upon. <Get in, Leonora. 

Why wilt thou stand at doors, to be gazed on 

By these young bawbling wantons of the town ? 

They'll smirk at thee, and wink, and kiss their 

hands : 
I know them very well, — such gewgaw brains, 
And hearts of rotton stone, and trash and lies — 
Wilt thou not hear me? What? (Exit Leonora.) 

By all the saints, 
She is the very apple of mine eye. 
She does not love this fellow : — the whim of girls, 
To have well-favored youths a-wooing them. — > 
I know that rogue — is it not Cabarero ? 
Oh, the base villain ! had he been but hanged 
Six years agone, or ere he looked upon 
My foolish boy! — Well, will he speak with me? 

(Enter Cabarero.) 
Come, let us in. 

CAB. 

Hola, you money -vender ! 
You reverend old blood-grater of the poor! 
Tarry, I'll speak with you. 

FEB. 

Now all the saints 
Give me a little patience. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 613 

CAB. 

Come, how stand 
Your vaults and money bags ? Still filling, filling, 
Like the horseleech's paunch, and crying "More!"? 
I'll be thy customer. What rate today ? 
Not cent per cent, with tenth of gross for premium ? 
Be reasonable, and I'll deal with thee. 
These are hard times, faith. 

FEB. 

I will not be angry, 
Why should I with a rascal ? Sefior, base fellow, 
You may go hang or drown — I'll give you naught. 

CAB. 

No, by mine honor, no, you will not give me, 

Else should the devil grow weary of the earth. 

And leave 't to angels. Give me indeed! When pesos 

Change to perditions, ducats to damnation, 

Then will I look for gifts. But how now, sefior? 

'Slid, I believe you are angry! — What's the news? 

How fares my little soul, fair Leonor? 

Upon my faith, she's an exceeding girl : 

What portion will you give her? Sometimes I 

Do think of marriage ; and hidalgo blood 

Has often stooped to gutters. 

FEB. 

Which is to say, 
Your honor might be bribed to marry her? 

CAB. 

Noble's a noble dower; and so I say, 
Verily so, if well thou portion'st her. 



614 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Then shalt thou hear it — When she weds a man 
Like thee, her portion shall be cords and ratsbane, 
Curses and misery! Oh, thou bold bad man, 
How canst thou look me in the face, nor think 
Of ruin'd Ramon? 

CAB. 

I do think of him, 
And wonder at the rage that ruins him. 

FEB. 

Sirrah ! 

CAB. 

Why, how you fume? I come to you 
To borrow money — good faith, a thousand ducats- 
At highest rates of interest, with surety 
Of good sufficient names, to be repaid 
Out of my new discovered silver mine. — 
I say, good names. 

FEB. 

Were they angelical, 
Thou shouldst not have a doit to hang thyself. 

CAB. 

Harkee, old sir — I meant a part thereof 
To feed thy starving Ramon. 

FEB. 

Knave, thou liest! 
It is to tempt him on to further shame. 
To deeper ruin! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 615 

CAB. 

Thou art angry, — I forgive thee. 
But know, unless thou send'st him money straight, 
He will be lodged in prison. Ope thy heart; 
Send him some gold. 

FEB. 

Art thou his friend ? 

CAB. 

His best. 

FEB. 

<Thou lovest my Ramon — ay, and thou lovest 

gold:> 
I'll teach thee how to serve him as a friend, 
And how to win thee money. 

CAB. 

Speak that how. 

FEB. 

Leave Bogota forever; swear me that: 

Get thee from hence to Spain; and I will give thee 

A thousand ducats. 

CAB. 

Faith, now you speak in jest! 

FEB. 

I say, I'll give them to thee, nay, and more, 
Swear me but that, and keep thine oath. 



616 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CAB. 

A thousand? 
A thousand ducats to leave Bogota? 
No, not for five! 

FEB. 

Wilt thou not go for five ? 

CAB. 

Art thou in earnest? 

FEB. 

So may the saints befriend me ; 
Get thee to Spain; leave Ramon unto me, 
And thou shalt have five thousand ducats. 

CAB. 

'Slid! 
I take thy offer. Give me the gold. 

FEB. 

Soft, soft: 
I'll have thine oath before a notary; 
Find thee conveyance unto Carthagena; 
Pay thee a portion when thou art embarked, 
And count the rest, in yearly sums, to thee, 
Only in Spain. 

CAB. 

Five thousand on the nail, 
Paid here in Bogota; to which e'en add 
A thousand yearly to be paid in Spain, 
During my term of life. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 617 

FEB. 

O grasping villain! 
Thou wouldst have all, and yet wilt go with none. 
If thou wilt more, there's money in my vaults; 
Break them, and rob me! 

CAB. 

Oh ! dost thou invite me ? 

FEB. 

Rob me, thou knave, that I may have thy life! 
Do me that crime, and hang! 

CAB. 

Most antique churl, 
Thou shalt be sorry for this fantasy. 
Thou hast no gold for Ramon ? 

FEB. 

Hence, begone! 

And a deep curse go with thee, a father's curse! 

Get thee to fraud and crime, to theft and murder. 

Become notorious to thyself, and sleep, 

Dreaming of gibbets, to wake up to racks ; 

Rob other sires of other sons; bring wo 

On other houses ; till the general curse 

Heaped like a mountain o'er thy head, reach heaven, 

And wall thee in its fiery hell forever ! 

Hence, monster, hence! 

{Exeunt.) 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT II 

SCENE I. A street near Mendoza's house. 
(Enter Ramon and Pablo.) 

PAB. 

I am a poor man, sen or Ramon: I must have money. 

RAM. 

Wert thou as penniless as a beggar, still couldst thou 
have nothing of me ; for I am poorer. 

PAB. 

Thy father is the richest man in Bogota. He should 
pay for thy food. 

RAM. 

Get thee to him, and tell him so. Look, thou insatiate 
rogue, I have signed and countersigned all thy 
villainous obligations ; I have owned me here thy 
debtor, and confessed thou canst justly hale me 
to prison. <What more can I do? If thou canst 
use these to any honest purposes, or dishonest 
either, I care not. Get thee to my father. If he 
will give thee money, I am content; if not, 'tis 
but a word to the alguazil, and thou shalt have so 
much satisfaction as my incarcerated misery can 
give thee. > 

618 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 619 

PAB. 

Thou knowest I should be loathe to be so unfriendly. 

RAM. 

I know, thou art as much a cormorant as the rest 
< and as rapacious for my lean and impoverished 
body as ever thou wert in my days of fatness. > 
Get thee away: I have one honest friend left, 
whom I would not willingly have to see me in thy 
company. 

PAB. 

Why, I hope thou art not ashamed of me? 

RAM. 

No, I am now ashamed of nothing. The grace in me 
that would have once blushed at unworthiness, 
is gone; and I have nothing left for contempt but 
myself — myself. Go, get money, if thou canst; 
it is thy only hope; thy stay will only rob me of 
my last. Go, I prythee. 

PAB. 

Well, God be with you*. If I can cheat your father, 
you shall have some of the gain. 

(Exit.) 

RAM. 

Thus doth severity still goad me on 
Into a hateful villainy ; and chains me 
<Whate'er my sighs for better liberty > 
To fellowship with rogues more vile than I. 
Thou drivest me, father, to this noose of shame; 
And wilt not bate thy wrath, till I am dead. — 



620 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

(Enter Juana.) 

I looked for thee, Juana ! for I knew 

Though all else had deserted me, thou couldst not. 

JUAN. 

Ramon, I have few words to speak to thee: 
And even with these, I lay upon my soul 
The sin of disobedience. 

RAM. 

Ay, indeed! 
You will obey your sire ! 

JUAN. 

What else should I? 
I am his only child; in whom, in sooth, 
Heaven would not pardon an unfilial act. 

RAM. 

Speak boldly; leave me, like the rest, and fear not; 
Say, Marco is a rich and honored man, 
And Ramon lost to wealth and reputation : 
There's none but will commend thee. 

JUAN. 

Say not that: 
Thou know'st, I never loved thee for thy wealth; 
For, sooth, I liked thee best when that was gone; 
With thy hard father's heart : and, for thy name, 
These evil tales destruction speaks of thee, 
But spur me on to be thy advocate. 
I never gave them faith. — 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 621 

RAM. 

Lies! that are ever 
Writ, by contempt, upon the poor man's brow, 
But puffed, by flattery, from all jewelled fronts. 
But yesterday men found the rich man's son 
Worthy and honorable, without stain; 
Today they find the fallen outcast's face 
Charged with the sinful leprosy of years — 
An hour for transformation! 

JUAN. 

They will find thee 
Stainless again, when thou art fortunate. 
Hark to me, Ramon : there are not many days, 
Ere I am lost to thee. Unless thou find 
Before they pass, some happy road to wealth, 
Fortune will come too late to purchase me. 
Get gold, and win my father's heart again 
Ere he do marry me to Marco. 

RAM. 

Heaven 
Smite his false, churlish heart! 

JUAN. 

Curse not my father : 
Do that which shall appease him. 

RAM. 

Marry thee? 
He had not thought it without thine own consent! 

JUAN. 

How thou dost wound me, Ramon! O bright saints, 
It was but now, as, at my lattice sitting, 



622 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

I looked down on the gardens of our sires, 

Which, in their days of friendship, our blest childhood, 

Did make one common paradise. — I thought 

Even of the thousand hours there, hand in hand, 

We had roamed among the blossoms. All this time 

My father was beseeching me for Marco. 

I saw no Marco, at the lemon-tree; 

It was not Marco, from the chirimoya, 

Had stolen the fragrant buds to crown me with ; 

It was not he had caught the humming bird, 

To keep him radiant in my memory ; 

I saw naught there but Ramon, and my heart 

Even while I wept, was hardened to my father; 

And with that sin, and with those tears, I won 

A last grace for thee — still a week of trial ; 

A week wherein if fortune smile upon thee 

The rites with Marco shall not be enforced. 

RAM. 

And how shall fortune smile again? 

JUAN. 

<I'll teach thee: 
Give o'er all thought of mines; they will delude thee 
On to a golden madness, but no wealth. 

RAM. 

What else remains ? > 

JUAN. 

Thy father, 
< Ramon, thy father. > 

RAM. 

My tyrant ! my destroyer ! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 623 

JUAN. 

Speak not thus, — 
Though harsh and most unjust, thy father, Ramon! 

RAM. 

Wed Marco ! Now by heaven, not even for thee 
Will I be spurned again. 

JUAN. 

Ramon, not spurned. 

RAM. 

Thou dost not know what wrong my sire has done me, 

This wreck thou seest of what I was, this shred 

Of my rent happiness, this squalid relic 

Of a once fair and ample reputation, 

This misery of heart and character — 

'Tis what my father makes me ! No, thou know'st not 

The depth of wrong he has done me. 

JUAN. 

Still remember 
What e'er thy suffering, that his wrath, first springing 
From the base slanders of thine enemies, 
Thine own rough pride still kindles. 
Nay, my Ramon — 

I know his nature; and, though much incensed, 
His heart is yearning to forgive thee. 



I have found it so ! 



RAM. 

Ay! 



624 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JUAN. 

Thou didst not personally 
Sue to him. Go thyself, go — send no more 
Thy friend to him. I like not Cabarero; 
I fear he is not the true friend you believe him. 
Go to him, Ramon, and beseech his pardon. 
Think, if thou gain'st him, thou gain'st me. 

RAM. 

Well, well- 
This day already did I go before him. 
He frowned and passed me by; and, as to mad me 
With the extreme of most vindictive wrath , 
Did while I stood hard by, advise thy father 
To marry thee to Marco. 



There is no hope 



JUAN. 

<Then heaven help me, 

RAM. 

Perhaps I'll find a mine. > 



JUAN. 

Alas, once more, once more beseech him, Ramon. 
Seek him alone, humble thyself before him. 
I will beseech him too. It cannot be, 
He has learned to hate thee. I will aid thy suit. 
Once more, once more, or I am lost forever. 

RAM. 

Well, well, I'll think of it. — But wed not Marco. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 625 

JUAN. 

Not till the week be o'er; but after that 
I have sworn to do my father's bidding. 
'Twas by that oath, I gained this week for thee. 

{Enter Mendoza.) 
Alack, I am torn from thee ! 

MEN. 

What, silly girl! 
Get thee to house. Thou wilt not win this puppet 
By wooing her i' the street. One last word, sefior, 
A week hence is my daughter's wedding dav. 

(Exit Mendoza, with Juan a.) 

ram. 

If I do go to him, he will not hear me — 

A week? — Nay, though with tears I should conjure 

him 
Ere he have brought a smile upon his face, 
New words of new misdeeds will turn its light 
Into a fiercer flame: he must needs find 
Fresh stains of degradation — I will not go. 
If he have thought to pardon me at all, 
I'll know't by Cabarero. 

(Enter Cabarero.) 



What said my father i 



RAM. 

What, Antonio? 

CAB. 



Your father? Humph! — Is Febro your father? I 
think we have all along made a mistake. What 



40 



626 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

said he? I am afraid it will not comfort thee to 
hear. We will not talk it in the street; thou wilt 
relish it better over a cup of wine. 

RAM. 

He has rejected my suit? 

CAB. 

Wilt thou hear how? Let us begone to Pablo's; for, 
I swear to thee, rage and despair are making me 
very thirsty. 

RAM. 

He will give me no relief? 

CAB. 

Wilt thou search my pockets? I offered him good 
security. It is true, the names were not so 
honestly written; but he asked not to see them. — 
Not a penny, not a penny; not even to save thee 
from perdition. — Pho, how thou sighest! Come, 
shall we go to drink ? Humph ! — if thou knewest 
how foolish 'tis to be melancholy. — Now have I 
been thinking, a quarter of a minute, how much 
thy silly face looks like an epitaph — a morsel of 
silent lamentation over thy dead and buried 
hopes. Well, thou art content to give up Juana? 

RAM. 

Because Febro, the broker, loves me not ! — I will call 
him father no more. — He would neither lend to 
you, who could give him the securities of law; nor 
to me, who have some of the claims of nature? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 627 

CAB. 

Not a penny. 'Sfuries, had you but seen how he re- 
viled me like a dog! And the more I begged him 
in thy name, the more wrathfully did he abuse me. 
Lend thee money? said he; / will lend thee the pangs 
of purgatory: Lend thee money I I will lend thee the 
whipping post. Thou know'st he was thy father, 
otherwise I had pulled him by the beard. Send 
me then comfort to thy afflicted and perishing son, 
quoth I, with a moderate supplicatory air. / will 
see him jailed, doomed and hanged first, said he. 

RAM. 

He did not say this ? 

CAB. 

Oh, not in such brief measures, to be sure: but that 
was the end of a ten minutes' malediction. 

RAM. 

<Why then good luck to him and no more begging. 
Whose throat shall we cut? Money must be had. 

CAB. 

Thy father has most shamefully treated thee, that's 
certain. > 

RAM. 

I will forget it when he has driven me to the grave, not 
sooner. Money must be had — and within a week. 
Men have been guilty of parricide. < Money, 
money! Have you no money? 



628 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



CAB. 



Here is a handful [of] shabby pistareens, if thou art 
famishing. Let us go and drink a toast to Marco's 
fair wife. > 



RAM. 

Shall we hang, drown, rob, or commit murder? I will 
now do any villainy thou canst recommend me. 

CAB. 

Most unnaturally wronged, and unnaturally aban- 
doned. This should excuse any vengeance. Thou 
must do thyself right. And thy milk-faced 
brother shall have thine inheritance ! Thou must 
right thyself — 

RAM. 

Before the week end; or I am in prison, and Juana 
married. 

CAB. 

I could teach thee a way. Come let us begone. 
'Sblood! are there no scavengers? — What have we 
here? By the mass, a key! Now might this 
belong to a rich man's door, and — 

RAM. 

Hah! 

CAB. 

Why what is the matter with thee? Is it gold? a 
basilisk? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 629 

RAM. 

The lost key of my father's vault ! 

CAB. 

Ho, have the saints forgot thee? Why, here is ven- 
geance! wealth! Juana! — It is not thy father's 
key? 

RAM. 

I have handled it a thousand times! 'Twas lost a 
month ago. 

CAB. 

Ha, ha! thy father bade me rob him! Give me the 
key. Look — thou art poor, miserable; this will 
make thee happy. Did destiny put it under thy 
foot for nothing? — Hark'ee — this is the true mine ! 
Come, Juana is waiting for thee! A little wine 
will put thfee out of this stare, — and this will help 
thee to thine inheritance. 

{Exeunt.) 

< SCENE II. The street before Febro's door. 
{Enter Leonor and Fernando.) 

FERN. 

Trust me, sweet Leonor, I have good cause 
To hide me from thy father. 

LEON. 

It is no cause 
Of a good man, that makes him shun the good. 



630 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FERN. 

The best, that have infirmities, are worst 
Under their proper passions; and the foible, 
Which, in thy sire, to other men, seems harmless, 
May make him, in mine eyes, detestable. 

LEON. 

What is 't that makes you say so ? If indeed, 

As I will not believe, thou lovest me, 

My sire should seem an angel in thine eyes. 

FERN. 

And so he should, did I not know, in his, 
My own poor image would be devilish. 

LEON. 

Well, I care not. You will be sorry soon, 
When I am wedded to another. 

FERN. 

Wedded! 
You do but tell me this to mock my heart. 
Then laugh me out of sorrow. 

LEON. 

No indeed: 
'Twas but this morning that my father said, 
I should be married to Don Baltasar. 
And I do think, because you will not do 
As love would still have taught you, for my sake, 
It will be best to marry Baltasar. 

FERN. 

To marry Baltasar! You cannot think 
To be so false. What, wed? and Baltasar? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 631 

LEON. 

He asks my father for me. 

FERN. 

So would I; 
But that I know, the answer to my prayer 
Would be, the curse to look on thee no more. 

LEON. 

Not if thou beest an honest gentleman. 

FERN. 

Honest I know not, for this love might seem 
To my stern father, subtle and deceitful; 
But so far honest, I would rather give 
These limbs up, to be torn by wild horses, 
Than ever do thee wrong. Sweet Leonor, 
Know, if I seek thy sire, he will demand me 
My father's name; whereat I needs must speak 
Such hateful syllables, as will turn his heart 
As by a fiendish magic, into coals; 
And if he do not kill me (as, indeed 
The sudden pang of rage may urge him to) 
At least, he'll drive me from thy face forever. 
I am the son of his worst enemy. 

LEON. 

Alas, he has no enemies. I ne'er heard him 
Speak of an enemy. 

FERN. 

The fiercest rage 
Hides, like the wolf, from daylight; the rough vulture 
Asleep upon his perch, doth seem as harmless 



632 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

As the poor innocent dove that's nested by. 
And Febro, brooding o'er a secret hate, 
May veil his anger with a face of peace. 
Why should he speak of enemies to thee? 

LEON. 

Art thou indeed his enemy? 

FERN. 

No, not I. 

I did forget the rage my father taught me 
Soon as I looked on thee. — Wed Baltasar? 

LEON. 

I will not marry Baltasar. 

FERN. 

But lo, 

Thy sire will have thee forced. 

LEON. 

What shall I do? 
Some maids would be so silly, they would fly 
If much persuaded. 

FERN. 

If thou look'st upon me 
Howe'er my fearful thoughts may start at folly 
I will persuade thee. 

LEON. 

Not unless he force me! 
He'll ne'er forgive me. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 633 



FERN. 

O thou simple sweet, 
If thy sire foam, mine own will anger more. 
But we'll forget them. 

LEON. 

Come to me again, 
And then perhaps I will — And if I do, 
My father will be so lonely. But then indeed 
He will forgive my brother: and, with my brother, 
He will be happy ! yes, indeed, more happy 
Than with poor me. 

FERN. 

Thou dost persuade thyself; 
And, in thy arguments, I am resolved. 
We will fly. 

LEON. 

Not till he force me ! 

FERN. 

Shall I wait? 
Till thou art married ? Get thyself prepared : 
And see thou have not store of bags and boxes, 
As will o'erload a caravan of mules — 
Tonight I'll come for thee. 

LEON. 

No, not so soon. 
Get thee away. There comes my brother Francisco !- 
But come to me — yes, come again, again! 

{Exeunt) > 



634 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

<SCENE III. A room in Febro's house. (Enter 
Febro and Silvano, with books.) 



FEB. 

That money lent to Tomas Catalan, — 
Four thousand marks, — is it not due today ? 
I'faith, 'twas yesterday. Where is Francisco? 
Doth he so slur my books ? Why this way was 
With Ramon, when he 'gan to change and fall, — 
Four thousand marks — Threatened with prison too ! — 
A good, safe man. — His mother ne'er dreamed 

this, — 
Threatened with prison — penniless — forsook. 
Why then perhaps the penance is too sore; 
His excellency says it is too heavy: 
He is a good man, and a wise man too. 
And it may be, if I deny him more, 
Necessity may force him to such guilt, 
As will his ancient follies make seem virtues. 
Poverty has an angel's voice, to plead 
Excuse of sin. — The town doth talk of me, 
They call me overharsh ; and Cabarero 
Says, it is I myself that ruin him. 
He'll lose his bride too. Think'st thou not, Silvano, 
I might to Pablo's go, and no man see me? 

SILV. 

To Pablo's, sen or? 

FEB. 

No, let him come to me. I will do naught to make men 
stare at me. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 635 

SILV. 

The saints forbid! — I think he has not his mind. 
Rob him ! and go to Pablo's ! or have Pablo, 
That low, base, scurvy rascal, come to him ! 

FEB. 

Say he be jailed, the lesson then is ended; 

The foul familiar parts from him ; and he 

Repents him in his bonds. But that disgrace 

May break his heart: I have known men die of shame. 

For that, to lofty spirits, is such an air 

As kills the lusty miner in the rift ; 

A breath is fatal. 

SILV. 

Talk you of killing, master? 

FEB. 

O foolish fellow, why dost thou stare at me? 
Methinks Francisco tarries overlong. 

SILV. 

He comes, sir. 

{Enter Francisco, bearing gold.) 

FEB. 

Get thee hence — look to the door. 
Thy duty. {Exit Silvano.) 

FRAN. 

Father, I have brought the gold; 
An excellent sum too. Shall I to the vaults ? 



636 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Look, boy, where are thy wits? I find me here 
Four thousand marks that yesterday were due, 
And not yet rendered. 

FRAN. 

From Tomas Catalan? 
Father, I saw him yesterday indeed, 
And he desired me fetch it home today. 

FEB. 

Why that was well. But wherefore spoke you not ? 
Will you do all and with no word from me ? 

FRAN. 

Father, I told you, and you did consent. 

FEB. 

Did I so, boy? Ay, now I recollect me, — 

This plague o' the heart doth dull the wit. 'Twas well. 

And Joseph Lucas, have you heard of him? 

Is't true his mine is flooded? 

FRAN. 

Deluged, father. 
Utterly lost. 

FEB. 

And he hath nothing left 
To pay me back that mine (I think I am mad 
To lend such sum to any mortal man) 
That mine of pesos I did lend to him? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 637 

FRAN. 

No, nothing, father; he is wholly ruined. 

FEB. 

I shall be ruined too ! Why 'twas a fortune 
For any man, a rich and princely fortune: 
I slaved out years to win it. I shall be ruined. 
I may live to see you brought to want. 

FRAN. 

No, father. 
Lose twice as much, enough remains for us. 

FEB. 

You will have enough with Ramon's portion ! 

FRAN. 

Father, 
Forgive my brother, give my portion to him. — 
I will live happy in a monastery, 
To know he is content and you with him. 

FEB. 

Thou art my loving boy! — Get thee to Catalan; 
Bring me that money; and when thou hast marked it, 
And also that his excellency gave thee, 
Store me both in the vault. 

FRAN. 

Shall I not have 
The masons to wall up the garden door ? 
The match-key, father, of the outer door, — 
Some rogue may find it. 



638 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

It is about the house; 
I did myself mislay it; and I will find it, 
Soon as these troubles vex my mind no more. 
But ne'ertheless, we'll wall the door tomorrow. 
Get thee away ; be swift ; and after that 
Make haste to mark the coin and store it safely. 

FRAN. 

Father? 

FEB. 

What wilt thou? 

FRAN. 

Father, when I am come 
To Catalan's door, I shall be nigh to Pablo's. 

FEB. 

Ay! 

FRAN. 

If I might but speak then with my brother — 

FEB. 

Get thee to Catalan; speak to none but Catalan; 
And think of none but Catalan. Or indeed, 
If thou must think of Ramon, let thy dreams 
Bring thee instruction, and inform thy heart 
What is the end of disobedience — sorrow, 
Abasement, shame, neglect, abandonment. 
Think of thy brother, but be far from him. > 

(Exeunt.) 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 639 

SCENE IV. The street before Febro's house. 
{Enter Mendoza and Silvano.) 

men. 
It is very strange. 

SILV. 

He grieves, sir, much for his son; and I think that 
sorrow is e'en setting him crazy. 

MEN. 

He talked with that debauched fellow, Cabarero? 

SILV. 

Ay, sefior; with the decayed and disreputable hi- 
dalgo, Cabarero — about Spain, and Carthagena, 
and a ship, and five thousand ducats. Sefior, 
would a wise man invite another to rob him ? 

MEN. 

To rob him ? 

SILV. 

He said, there was money in his vaults. He might 
have told him, he could break in from the garden 
and the cellar. To be sure he said he would hang 
him, when it should come to be discovered. 

MEN. 

I have seen in him no sign of dotage, nor of madness; 
but this savors of both. 

SILV. 

And what should make him think of Pablo ? He asked 
me, might he not go to Pablo, and no one see him ! 



640 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



MEN. 

This is still as strange; for Pablo is notoriously sus- 
pected to be a rogue. 

SILV. 

He talked of killing too; <and with poisons as deadly 
as the foul air of a mine. > Now had he thought 
of killing Pablo, I should not esteem him so mad; 
but to think of going to Pablo! That is most 
lunatic-like. 

MEN. 

He shall not need that; for, see, here comes the knave 
Pablo to him. 

(Enter Pablo.) 

PAB. 

God save your worship, Sefior Mendoza. Good e'en, 
honest Silvano. Is your master at home ? 

SILV. 

Why if he be at home, what is that to you? 

PAB. 

So much that I must even beg of your friendship to be 
admitted to speak with him. 

SILV. 

< To be dinged over the head with an old ledger, or a 
bundle of ingots? Why thou graceless, besotted 
vagabond! what puts it into thy mind to think 
he would lend thee anything? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 641 

PAB. 

Why if I have good security, why not ? I am as honest 
a man as another, I care not who knows it. I 
have business with Senor Febro, your master; and 
you were best tell him so, for it concerns him to 
know. 

MEN. 

If thou wert not beyond the belief of an honest man 
thy impudence would utterly ruin the fame of an 
honest man. > How canst thou have the folly 
to think that Febro will speak with thee? Pr'y- 
thee get thee gone, ere he come out and do thee 
some violence. 

PAB. 

Who knows? I am here on mine own business; and I 
will have the law of any one that hinders me. 

SILV. 

If thou wilt have the law, it must come to thee in shape 
of a halter. Go, you rogue, get you gone. — Law! 
were there any law in Bogota, thou shouldst have 
been the first chapter of its execution. 

PAB. 

I will not go till I see Senor Febro; and if you cease not 
reviling me, you rascal crumb-eater! you door- 
hinge! you cloak-thumper! you look for an old 
hat! I'll beat your bones into brickdust. You 
rascal ! You will have me in a passion ? You will 
deny me to see your master? You will call me 
scurvy names? — 



642 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

MEN. 

Out, sirrah! will you brawl before Febro's door? See, 
your insolence has drawn him forth, and now you 
will answer it. 

(Enter Febro.) 

silv. 
Ay, now look, you rascal; now you will be talked to. 

PAB. 

Good, your worship, Sefior Febro ! I have a message 
from your son. 

FEB. 

From Ramon? 

PAB. 

From Ramon, sefior; and this noisy, idle, lick-mouthed 
platter-monger — 

SILV. 

Please, your worship, I said you would speak with no 
such base fellow. 

FEB. 

You were overforward, sirrah ! 

MEN. 

What, Febro ! it is not creditable to notice such a man. 

FEB. 

Good friend, you shall pardon me — I will be mine own 
adviser. Sefior Mendoza, you are welcome. If 
you fear the taint of his presence, you can walk by. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 643 

MEN. 

{Apart to Silvano.) 
We will observe this interview from a distance. 

{Exit, with Silvano.) 

FEB. 

Now, sirrah, what message sends Ramon by such a 
messenger ? 

PAB. 

I hope your favor will pardon me — I have harbored 
the young sefior long. 

FEB. 

Speak the message, and no more. He sends thee to me 
for money? 

PAB. 

Hoping your excellent mercy will pity his misery, 
which is greater than he can bear, and my pov- 
erty, which enforces me to pray your goodness 
for some relief. 

FEB. 

Why, what care I for thy poverty? 

PAB. 

My friendship for the young man has brought me into 
great necessity; and here he acknowledges, unless 
I am paid, I may justly throw him into prison. 
But I hope your worship will not compel me. 

FEB. 

< A thousand ducats ! Thou art a lying knave : where 
got'st thou a thousand ducats to lend him? 



644 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PAB. 

O, there is much of that that was the cost of his food 
and lodging; and then for the rest, I borrowed it, 
to help him open his mine. But 'twas opened 
without profit, the money was swallowed, my 
creditor is enraged; and now the end is this — I 
must send Senor Ramon to prison, or go myself 
which he here confesses, and prays your bounty to 
protect us both. 

FEB. 

And hast thou the impudence to suppose I will give 
thee a penny to save thee from this fate? 

PAB. 

No, senor, but I think you will do this much to save 
Ramon — whereby I shall be saved myself. > 

FEB. 

Do as thou wilt; thou shalt have no money. Put him 
in prison — I am content. He shall have nothing 
to keep him from the fangs of thee and thy com- 
panions, whom he has chosen his friends. 

PAB. 

Truly, sir, misfortune is no elector of friendships, as, 
by mine honesty, I know full well. I am myself 
forced by my necessities to love men I hate; and 
surely, I think, Senor Ramon would not, unless 
obliged by his misfortunes willingly consort with 
men of my degree. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 645 

<FEB. 

Dost thou speak this in honesty and humility? or is it a 
lure to deceive me ? 

PAB. 

Oh, sir, I have known better days; and therefore do I 
pity Sefior Ramon, because I see him treading the 
same path of folly, which led me into my present 
baseness. 

FEB. 

I have mistaken thee ! > 

PAB. 

I have counselled him, too, against his gambling and 
his drinking; for, besides that I saw how such 
courses would utterly ruin him, I had no hopes of 
ever being paid for the cost of supplying him. 

FEB. 

Oh, then, if thy interest run the same way with thy 
humanity, I have much reason to believe thee 
honest. 

PAB. 

Truly, it is a sad sight to see a young man led astray 
by evil companions — a young man, and good. 

FEB. 

Young, and once good! 

PAB. 

I cautioned him that Cabarero was a most dangerous 
companion; it was no honor to be friends with 
such a hidalgo. 



646 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Thou didst ! 

PAB. 

In faith, I told him, Don Antonio had been the ruin of 
every young man he had sworn love to; and he 
might see what good had come of his friendship, 
when he looked on his own wretchedness. 

FEB. 

<Is it possible I have wronged thee so much?> 
Thou didst tell him this? Well, what said he? 

PAB. 

He wept, and said, his father's severity had left him 
no other choice — 

FEB. 

Ah! 

PAB. 

And swore if thou wouldst forgive him, he would never 
more speak with Cabarero. But, he knew, thou 
wouldst not. 

FEB. 

Tell me the truth, Pablo, and thou shalt not be sorry. 
Did Ramon say this? What! never more speak 
with Cabarero. 

PAB. 

I were but an infidel to belie him — he said this, with 
many tears — 

FEB. 

With tears? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 647 

PAB. 

Crying, in his despair, it was no matter, thou hadst 
forsaken him and the sooner his ruin was accom- 
plished, the better; thou wouldst have no more 
shame, when he was in his grave. 

FEB. 

In his grave? Is he reduced to this despair? 

PAB. 

Despair indeed! All last night while Cabarero was 
drinking, he did nothing but kiss an old rosary, 
that he wears round his neck, with a devout 
passion <that nothing but great misery could 
breed up in a young man. > 

FEB. 

That rosary did I give him, in his youth. 

It is enough — he is not all depraved. 

Pablo ! mine own eyes shall be witness 

Of his contrition; and haply, if I find 

What thou hast spoken is to them confirmed, 

Thou shalt have all that he does rightly owe thee, 

And more, to mark my favor. 

PAB. 

Please your worship, 'tis very true — A thousand 
ducats, sefior. 

FEB. 

Till I am satisfied thou shalt have nothing. 
Tonight, I'll come to thee, and suddenly 



648 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Appear before him; <when, indeed, if sorrow- 
Be working at his heart, it needs must out 
Into a bursting penitence. > 



PAB. 

I'll have Antonio set aside. 

FEB. 



God bless your worship ! 



That villain! 
I have had sinful dreams, and sometimes, almost 
Have thought to buy some rogue to take his life. 

< I fear me, Ramon cannot be my Ramon, 
While Cabarero lives to tempt him. > 

PAB. 

O, your worship, 
There are men, who for a recompense would put him 
Out of the way — Perhaps a thousand ducats — 
At most two thousand — yes, in faith, two thousand, 
With some few charges to escape the law, 
Might have him cared for. 

FEB. 

Nay, leave him to heaven : 
I'll buy no Ramon at the price of blood. 

< After the nightfall, I will come to thee. > 
Be sure thou dost not speak of mine intent — 
<Thou shalt have nothing else: speak not a word. > 
Expect me — Now, away. 

PAB. 

Alack, your worship 
Will give me no relief ? Some little money 
To buy the boy a supper — we are very wretched ! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 649 

FEB. 

What, wanting food? 0, heaven, my strictness runs 

Into a wicked, barbarous cruelty ! 

Here's gold — Buy food; but say not whence it comes. 

I'll bear enough to free him from thy hands, 

After the vespers — Mark me, after vespers. 

<Away now, thou shalt see me after vespers !> 

{Exeunt.) 

END OF ACT II. 



ACT III 

SCENE I. A room in Pablo's Inn. {Enter 
Cabarero and Pablo.) 

CAB. 

After the vespers? he will come himself? Every way, 
this is extravagant good fortune. He will bring 
gold too? Better still! That gold, were he an 
angel, shall witness him out of heaven. He shall 
call me rogue and cur, and such vile names, and 
not be remembered ? he shall gibe me when I offer 
to ennoble his dowdy daughter? Oh, I have often 
dreamed how he should repent him! 

PAB. 

Come, 'slife, this will be too improbable, and danger- 
ous. 

CAB. 

He would hire thee to assassinate me too? 

PAB. 

Ay, never believe me else: he offered me two thousand 
ducats to slay thee. But I told him thou wert my 
true friend and I would not kill thee for so little. 

CAB. 

A rope for a dagger! a gibbet for a ditch! Oh, I see 
him, as in a picture, with the priest at his side, 
650 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 651 

the hangman at his neck, and the multitude 
hooting him to the scaffold, and all the while, I 
am rattling his dollars in my pocket ! 

PAB. 

< I tell thee, I like not this plan. Here are two others: 
— First — we will take Ramon into our counsel, 
reconcile him with his father and use him for our 
banker. 

CAB. 

Hang him, no: his milk and water cowardice will keep 
us beggars. If his father forgive him, he will 
repent and forsake us. 

PAB. 

Why, then — as the old man will bring a thousand 
ducats with him — we may help him to a ditch, 
and so make sure of that : for otherwise, he will see 
I am cheating him, and give me nothing. 

CAB. 

No killing! — except by the laws. Every way, I assure 
thee, this plan is the best. It is easiest, it veils us 
from suspicion, and it makes us most profit. If 
we are in danger, it is our only safety. > 

PAB. 

Well, I understand all — But if the viceroy should 
hang me? 

CAB. 

Thou art the king's witness, thy life is secure; 'tis but 
a week in prison, and thou comest out purified 
with a pardon. 



652 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



PAB. 



A week in prison! Before the week is over, they may 
sift out the truth and give me to Satan. 

CAB. 

Why, then, we will bribe thee out of the jailer's hands, 
though it should cost a thousand pesos. 

PAB. 

That's too much! I will get a man out for half that. 

CAB. 

Wouldst thou be economical with thine own neck? 
Thy share shall not be the less, whatsoever be the 
cost. 

PAB. 

The story will be too incredible. 

CAB. 

Is not Ramon a good witness? Who shall resist his 
testimony ? 

PAB. 

But will he appear? 

CAB. 

As surely as thou shalt; for he has that baseness of 
cowardice, he will sell the lives of all his friends, 
to save the worthlessness of his own. 

PAB. 

I must have a full third. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 653 



CAB. 

A full half! Methinks that were but scurvy generosity 
to share our gains with this whining, unnatural 
rogue, who is but the cipher of the triumvirate! 

PAB. 

I think so too! <Tis but honest to cheat him who 
cheats his father. > 

CAB. 

Remember that every coin carries the private mark of 
the broker; wherefore we must bury it till the hue 
and cry be over, and then melt it into ingots, as 
if it came from a mine. Harkee! — we will bury it 
in two portions, in one a thousand pesos or so; 
this shalt thou show the officers. But the other 
thou must swear was hidden from thee. 

PAB. 

< I warrant me; but if you deceive me, I will impeach 
you, by St. Geronimo, I will ! 

CAB. 

Fear not; I can do nothing without thee. We will to 
Spain together. 

PAB. 

With all my heart, and without Ramon? 

CAB. 

Oh, he will marry Mendoza's daughter; and in the 
rapture of his matrimony, what will be the loss of 
a little money to him?> 



654 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



PAB. 

Well, I am agreed: I long for the vesper bell. But 
remember, I say, Cabarero, no roguery! 

CAB. 

Not a little, I tell thee: we will rob and cheat like 
honest gentlemen and friends, <and enjoy our 
good fortune together. > Come, I left Ramon at 
the bottle, and now he will be brave enough to 
lead to the vaults of darkness, or — his father. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. A room in Febro's house. (Enter 
Leonor and Fernando.) 

LEON. 

Pray you, begone; I did not promise you; 
And if my father hear you, oh, dear saints, 
I shall have no more peace to stay with him. 

FERN. 

Wilt thou then stay and marry Baltasar? 
Now, wert thou half as wise as other maids, 
Thou wouldst not fright at this brave opportunity, 
But chain me on the instant. Silly love! 
Though I am mad enough to fly tonight, 
Tomorrow may my father's strength prevail, 
And bond me to another. 

LEON. 

Indeed! indeed! 
And is there fear your sire will be so cruel ? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 655 

FERN. 

Nay, very certain. The anger of your father 

Is but a matchlight, kindling on the instant, 

And, on the instant, with a sigh put out; 

But my sire's rage will be a conflagration. 

< Lit in a mine, and roaring on forever. 

Oh, I could tell thee stories of my sire, 

And of myself, if so I durst, would make thee 

Instant and resolute. For know, thou doubter, 

Whate'er his worth, my father loves me well: 

And know I not how long I might have courage 

To act the sin will lose me all that love, 

And gain me all that fury. > Wherefore, quick! 

While our fates smile on us, let us begone. 

LEON. 

In sooth, 'tis wrong. 

FERN. 

Why, here's a delicate bundle 
Might grace the shoulder of a soldier's spouse, 
As sister to a knapsack. 

LEON. 

Alack, for pity! 
'Twill break my father's heart. 

FERN. 

<It shall be mended. 
Now, with my life> I'll warrant his forgiveness: 
Would I could hope my father's! A rogue am I. — 
Thou know'st not at how rich a cost I buy thee. 
Come, do not weep : I swear, this flight will bring thee 
Nothing but happiness. 'Tis I alone 
Will feel the punishment. 



656 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

LEON. 

And wilt thou feel it? 
I am determined then I will not fly, — 
Thus to bring trouble to thee. 

FERN. 

<Why, here's a wind, 
Fooling the compass! and yet so sweet and pleasant, 
Breathing the gentle odors of true love, 
That I'll forgive it. Fear not thou for me; > 
Whate'er of state and men's consideration, 
Whate'er of hope, or what of certainty, 
To rise to greatness, I give up for thee, 

< I give up with good will — at first, with fear 
And strong reluctance, but, at this good hour 
With joy and pride; >for now I know that fate 
May hide more happiness in a lowly cot, 
Than e'er the thrones in great men's palaces. 

< So to a cot we'll hie us, in some nook 

Of a delicious valley, where the mountains, 
Walling us in with azure, up to heaven, 
Shut out all things but heaven. > 

LEON. 

O, heaven be with me! 
I fear to fly. Come thou some other time : 
Let me think more of this. Come back tomorrow — 
Let me think more; and, as I think, once more 
Look on my father's face. 

FERN. 

A thousand times, 
After tonight, for he will soon forgive thee. — 
Nay, look not back. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 657 

LEON. 

Ah ! hark ! we are discovered ! — 
Another time — He is stirring in the vault! 

FERN. 

Pause not, the door is open. 

LEON. 

It is too late: 
I hear my brother's step! Away, Rolando! 

FERN. 

This comes of trembling! 

LEON. 

Tomorrow night — 

FERN. 

Tomorrow ! 
Farewell, and dream of me. (Exit.) 

LEON. 

He'll see the bundle! — 
(Enter juana.) 
My friend and Ramon's love ! She saw Rolando ! 

JUAN. 

Why, Leonor, does no one watch the door? 
This might invite a robbery. 

LEON. 

Odd's heart, a robbery! 

42 



658 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JUAN. 

And how you tremble! 

LEON. 

I am not afeard ! 
My father is in the vaults; and so I am not 
Afeard of him or any other man. 

JUAN. 

Afeard of him ! Oh ! you are much confused. 
Afraid of him! Why, sure it was no rogue, 
Although, good sooth, he muffled up his face, 
As he brushed by me — Tell me, Leonor — 
I thought 'twas Ramon! 

LEON. 

And perhaps it was — 

JUAN. 

Was it indeed ! and did he see his father? 
And will his father pardon him? — Oh, for pity! 
How could it be so, when so timorously 
He stole away, and stole away from me ? 
<Why shouldst thou hide it from me?> 

LEON. 

Did you see anybody? 
Why Ramon was not here. 

JUAN. 

Who could it be? 
Sure you are not ignorant, some man — some stranger, 
Cloaked to the eyes, was stealing through the house? 
Indeed you should call your father. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 659 



Frightened, I mean — 



LEON. 

He would be angry — 



JUAN. 

Oho! a bundle nicely tied 
In a fair Eastern kerchief! and a man 
Stealing away! and then these thousand blushes, 
And contradictions ! — 

LEON. 

Oh, my dear Juana! 
You'll not betray me ! 

JUAN. 

Shall I laugh at thee? 
I will not frown; I am not one of those 
That step between true hearts, and break them — Go; 
Think what thou doest, before thou art resolved; 
Think what thou doest, before thou leavest thy father ; 
Think of him well ; think of thy brothers too ; 
Think of thy lover, is he good and worthy; 
< Think of thyself, thy maiden reputation — > 
Think of thyself; then, if thy heart confirms thee, 
Follow the guidance of thy love, and go, 
<With heaven to comfort thee — / will not stay thee. 
I would have no heart suffer, save my own. > 
But be not rash, be not precipitate : 
Methinks your flight would break your father's heart. 

LEON. 

I will not leave him, for I know indeed, 
(Heaven pardon me that e'er I should forget it !) 
He is wo enough for Ramon. 



660 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JUAN. 

Is he indeed? 
If that be so, then have I happier hopes 
To charm his anger into loving pardon. 
I came to be his suitor. 

LEON. 

Shall I call him? 
And yet I fear to have you pray him now. 
He has been vexed a thousand times today. 
And was a little strange and irritable. 
These crosses move him deeper than of old — 
Tomorrow will be better. 

JUAN. 

Think not so. 
The happiness, almost the life of Ramon 
Rests on a speedy pardon. 

LEON. 

He is in the vault 
About some project. If you'll wait awhile, 
Francisco will come back, and call him forth — 
Nay, there's my brother! 

(Enter Mendoza and Silvano.) 

MEN. 

I tell thee, good Silvano, 
It is impossible. 

silv. 
Ask my mistress else. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 66 1 

JUAN. 

Father ! 

LEON. 

What is the senor's will ? 

MEN. 

By heaven! 
There's roguery afoot! Where is your father? 
There are knaves a-robbing him. 

(Exit SlLVANO.) 

LEON. 

Good sir, for pity, 
What do you mean? My father, these two hours, 
Has been i' the vaults. 

MEN. 

I say it cannot be : 
There are ruffians in the garden : by this hand, 
I saw a lantern twice flash through the trees, 
Heard voices murmuring and — 

(Re-enter Silvano.) 

silv. 

The vault is locked: 
Heaven guard him well, my master is not there! 
I'll to the garden. (Exit.) 

LEON. 

He did not come out ! 
Perhaps they have murdered him ! 



662 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

MEN. 

What, help! ho, help! 
Here's villainy! foul, bloody villainy! 

(Enter Francisco.) 

0, wretched boy, your father's vaults are robbed, 
And he perhaps is* murdered ! 

{Exit Francisco.) 

LEON. 

Give him help: 
He is old and feeble. 

JUAN. 

< Do not be dismayed. > 
(Re-enter Silvano, bearing a cloak.) 

silv. 

Thieves! thieves! we are robbed! the garden gate is 

open, 
The cellar wall broke through, the vault exposed. 

(Re-enter Francisco.) 

This found I hanging on a cactus bush; 
This morn I noted it on Pablo's back. 
I know the robber! 

FRAN. 

Run thou for alguazils, 
And follow me to Pablo's — Sister, fear not : 
The door is locked, my father is not there — 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 663 

It is no murder, but a robbery. 

Sefior Mendoza, will you go with me 

Or tarry here, and break this to my father? 

MEN. 

Nay, I will go with you — Stay with the girl. (To 
Juan a.) 

my life, the strangest marvel ! Robbed by Pablo ! 
We must be quick — A most strange villainy ! 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE III. A room in Pablo's Inn. (Enter 
Pablo, Ramon, and Cabarero each bearing a bag of 
coin.) 

CAB. 

Victoria! Thou art revenged, enriched and beatified; 
the mine is found, and Juana is thine own! We 
will melt these dollars into ingots, show them to 
Mendoza, and, tomorrow, thou wilt be in paradise. 

RAM. 

In hell, I think; for what devil is blacker than I ? But 
he forced me to it ! 

CAB. 

Ay, he forced thee to it. 

RAM. 

We are followed too; I hear the hue and cry! Let us 
escape — Do you not hear? 

CAB. 

1 hear the beating of thy silly heart. Why what a 

cowardly poor-spirited knave hath vile liquor 



664 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

made thee ! — Pablo, thou art the king of cheats — 
Wine, and a crucible, and a roaring hot fire — I 
tell thee, thou art mad ! All is safe. 

RAM. 

Hark, hark, Antonio! 

CAB. 

'Tis the rumbling of a cart. Fy upon thy white giz- 
zard ! Wilt thou never make a rascal of spirit ? 
(A knocking.) 

RAM. 
PAB. 

Hark! 

RAM. 

We are lost! we are lost! 

CAB. 

(To Pablo.) 
Down with thee to the door, and be wise. 

(Exit Pablo [Cabarero hides the gold].) 

RAM. 

We are undone! 

CAB. 

I will stab thee, if thou goest on with this clamor. 

RAM. 

Antonio! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 665 

CAB. 

Art thou not now a rascal ? and why shouldst thou not 
have the wit and courage of a rascal? Put on a 
face of iron, and harden thy nerves into the same 
metal. — This is a friend — Lo, he comes to spy on 
thee! 

(Re-enter Pablo, conducting Febro [Febro bearing 
a bag of coin].) 

He can never forgive thee now, remember that. — 
Good even, Sefior Febro, you are very welcome. 

FEB. 

Away, bad man! I'll have no words with thee. 
My office here is full of love and peace. 
And hath no part in thee, except to steal 
A victim from thee. Hark thee, Ramon, boy; 
Thou once wert good, and dutiful and loving — 
Loving, I say, and then, besides, thou wert 
The first life of thy mother. What thou wert 
To mine own old affections, I'll not speak. 
Thou hast acted many follies; yet, because 
<Of mine own weakness, and because I know> 
They have weighed thee down with heavy misery, 
I am willing to forgive them. 

RAM. 

Hah! 

FEB. 

< Forgive them!> 
One thing alone — and if thy heart yet holds 
A grain of love, it will not start at that; 
<One thing alone will bear thee back again 



666 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Into my house — perhaps my heart too. > Bid 
Farewell unto this man, who loves thee not: 
Know him no more; and here am I to free thee 
From his bad thraldom — Look, I have gold with me. 

{Displaying a bag.) 
Enough to ransom thee. 

RAM. 

What, gold! 

FEB. 

I heard 
How far thy miseries had carried thee. 

RAM. 

What gold ? hah ! gold for me ? 

FEB. 

Thou seest! enough 
Perhaps o' the present, to discharge thy debts. 
And make thee good and happy once again. 

RAM. 

Ha! ha! 

Thou couldst relent then ? Why thou art gone mad — 

Thou bring'st me money ! It is too late. 

<CAB. 

{Apart to Ramon.) 

Well said! 

Thou art a man. He waited his pleasure. What has 
he made thee?> 

FEB. 

Ramon, my son! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 667 

RAM. 

Oho ! thy son ! 
Why what a father had that son? a father 
Who, while forgiveness would have wrought the son 
Into a holy penitent, gave him wrath, 
And turned him to perdition — What a father! 
To do this mischief to his child ; and when 
He saw his child i' the gulf of hell, to taunt him 
With words of pardon ! 

CAB. 

Bravo! a proper spirit! 
Thou seest, old man ! thou wouldst not hearken to me. 
Oho, I begged you; but you called me rogue — 
Villain, and rogue. — 

FEB. 

Ramon, thou knowst not what thou sayest. Perhaps 
I was too hard with thee; but I repent me, 
Wilt thou have pardon? love and pardon? 



RAM. 



Yea; 



Curses for pardon, and a knife for love! 

I am not thy son ; the thing that was thy Ramon 

Is perished! lost, forever lost! no atom 

That once was his, left breathing, — all destroyed, 

And made the elements of fiends — Oh, hence! 

Away! old maniac, hence! 



FEB. 

Do I live 



And listen to my boy? 



668 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PAB. 

Hark! 

VOICES WITHIN. 

Thieves ! 

FEB. 

0, heaven, 
Thou judgest sorely! Is it so indeed? 
Would I had died or ere I heard these words. 
These worse than death! Well, God be with thee, 

Ramon : 
Thou hast killed thy father. 

VOICES. 

Thieves ! thieves ! thieves ! 

{Enter Francisco, Silvano, Mendoza, with Alguazils. 
As they enter, Cabarero seizes upon Febro.) 

cab. 

Stand fast! 
Old rogue, dost think to 'scape! The laws will have 

thee. 
The laws, I say, hah ! 

FRAN. 

Father! 

CAB. 

Off, thou cub! 
Touch not the rogue. Your prisoner, officers ! 
Febro, the robber of Febro! 



J HE BROKER OF BOGOTA 669 

FRAN. 

Villain and fiend ! 
{He is held.) 

FEB. 

What is the matter, son ? Will no man drag 
This fellow from me? 



A felon knave. 



CAB. 

Your prisoner, officers ! 



FRAN. 

O, father! father!— Brother! 
Why don't you speak ? Why don't you kill the villain ? 

CAB. 

{Apart to Ramon.) 
Away with thee! {Exit Ramon.) 

Your prisoner, officers! 
Whom I do here accuse, with witnesses 
More perfect than myself, of robbery 
And fraud upon his trust. And here you have 
In his own hands, part of his felony; 
And, there i' the corner, more of his vile crime. 

FEB. 

Thou raving ruffian ! 

MEN. 

What, Antonio? 
Chargest thou Febro with self -robbery ? 

FEB. 

Why, who is robbed? 



670 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FRAN. 

0, father! 

CAB. 

It shall be proved. 

PAB. 

I claim the royal mercy. 

MEN. 

Shake off this stare, 
Art thou insane ? They do accuse thee, Febro, 
Of robbing thine own vaults. 

FEB. 

Do I not dream ? 

MEN. 

< Thy doors are broke. 

FEB. 

I am ruined! 

CAB. 

Hark ! he owns it ! 
It shall be proved before his excellency, 
Perfectly proved, with witnesses enough. 
Here's Pablo, his accomplice, has confessed. > 

FRAN. 

O, father ! 

FEB. 

Robbed? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 671 

CAB. 

< Take him before the viceroy — 

FEB. 

I'll have the villain for ten thousand ducats: 
I'll have it proclaimed. 

FRAN. 

0, father! 

FEB. 

Robbed? 

CAB. 

Away?> 
— He apes amaze. Carry him to the viceroy. 
It shall be proved before his excellency. 

[all. 

Away! Away! Away!] 

(Exeunt [Omnes. Febro in the hands of the Alguazil.)) 

END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV 

SCENE I. A room in the vice-regal palace. {Enter 
the Viceroy, attended.) 

PALM. 

They are insane that say't — the broker robbed! 

And Febro turned a rogue ! Now surely madness 

May sweep o'er nations like a pestilence, 

And folly, like a corporal epidemic, 

Fever the minds of all. What is't but madness, 

Could fill the city with this riotous cry, 

Febro is robbed. Febro hath done a fraud? 

< I know the man — sure of all men most honest, 

And — I did think — most cautious. Yet it may be, 

As my fear whispers me, he has been robbed, 

And those — I know, I feel, how that may be — 

Those who have suffered in his losses, raise, 

From grief and rage, the cry of villainy — > 

What ! do they bring their fury to the palace? 

1ST OFFICER. 

Even so, your excellency; they have dragged 
The broker to the gates, and cry for justice. 

PALM. 

Justice for all ! Set them before us straight. 
That he who needs it most, this poor old man, 
May be protected from the accusers' rage, 
And they be taught how foolishly they wrong him. 

672 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 673 

(Enter Cabarero, Ramon, Mendoza, Francisco, with 
Officers bringing Febro and Pablo. Cabarero, 
and some others, crying Justice! justice!) 

PALM. 

What now, ye violent and thoughtless men, 
What crime you are committing, know you not, 
Thus, with rude hands, dishonoring the body, 
And, with rude tongues, the name and reputation, 
Of a most honest worthy citizen? 

CAB. 

Your excellency is deceived ; this man 
Is a most subtle and confirmed rogue, 
<As will be witnessed to your excellency. 

PALM. 

What, Febro! dost thou hear? What means this 

charge ? 
Why do I find thee thus?> 

FRAN. 

Oh, noble viceroy, 
Punish these men, that, with such slanderous hate, 
Destroy my father. 

CAB. 

The prisoner, please your highness, 
Has been discovered in a knavish fraud. 

PALM. 

Hold thy peace, yet. — What, Febro 



674 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

I will speak — 
Thou rogue, I'll have thee howl! Ay, by my troth, 
And every man of them. Are they all crazed? 
<0h, I am glad to see your excellency — 
These rogues ! these rogues ! O, but that I have lost 
My faculties in wonder, I could speak 
Till they were struck with shame. What is the 

matter ?> 
Their cry is, I am robbed. I know not that; 
<Pray you discharge me, let me see to it. 
I cannot think't; and yet it may be so. 
I may be robbed (heaven pity mine old age!) 
And many wronged with me — But 'tis not that. > 
What do they mean? I pray, your highness, mark 

them. 
They charge me with dishonest practices. 
Dishonest practices ! If there be law, 
I will have vengeance on them. 

PALM. 

So thou shalt, 
To the extreme of justice — Good Mendoza — 
Thou art the calmest here; speak what thou knowst 
Of this same robbery. Is there a robbery? 
<Hath any man been spoiled of property ?> 
Have Febro's chests been broken? 

MEN. 

Please, your highness, 
'Tis even too true; and true it is (I say it 
With shame and sorrow, and with much amazement) 
There are particulars of damning moment, 
That show connivance where one would not think it. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 675 

FEB. 

By heaven! 'tis false! Who is there could connive 
Of all my house ? Will any say 'twas I ? 
<Ay, they do say it; they do charge it on me!> 
Pray, good your excellency, search this well; 
<Pray you, be quick, and let me know it all. 
There is some plot against me; I am robbed. 
Well, is not that enough? I am then ruined — 
If robbed, why ruined; for, of all still left, 
There's not enough to cover o'er that loss. 
That will bring many into need. Search well;> 
Find me the rogues, and give me back my gold; 
I can with that pay all, and more than all. 

PALM. 

Febro, I pity thee. — this looks not well — 

Say'st thou, connivance ? < In some hour of madness, 

Spirits of virtue have themselves forgot, 

And, in one deed, turned villains. > Speak, Mendoza. 

Utter the charge, if charge thou hast to make; 

<Tell me thy tale, if any wrong thou know'st;> 

And, in my quality of arbiter, 

I will forget who is the man accused, 

And judge him as a stranger. 

FEB. 

Let him speak; 
I do defy him; let him speak; let all. 
All men, my foemen and my friends alike, 
I do defy to speak a wrong of me ! 

<MEN. 

Until today, I dreamed no wrong of Febro; 
Nor, please your highness, could I dream it now, 
But that I think he has not his proper mind. 



676 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Why that may be; you keep me still bewildered, 
Knowing myself all ruined, but not how; 
Traduced, maligned, but wherefore ignorant. 
Despatch, Mendoza, for I have no fear. 
You will be sorry to have thought this wrong. 
Not in my mind ! In sooth, you do distract me. > 

MEN. 

Please, your excellency. 
Pablo, the innkeeper, here throws himself 
On the king's mercy; and, himself avowing 
Accomplice in the act, Baptista charges 
To have been his leader. 

FRAN. 

Oh, your noble highness, 
This is an open villainy. That Pablo 
Is a notorious rogue, <a thief and liar, > 
Not to be hearkened to by honest men. 

PALM. 

Silence, Francisco; be not overrash; 
Thy father shall have justice. 

MEN. 

Noble sir, 
What the youth says of Pablo is most true; 
No honest man should hearken to his speech; 
Yet Febro spoke with him, and I myself 
Witnessed the conference. 



I spoke with him. 



FEB. 

Why, so I did; 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 677 

PALM. 

Peace, Febro, Heaven 
be with thee! 
<This is a cloud that gathers to a storm !> 
He spoke with Pablo ? 

MEN. 

Yes, and gave him money. 
His man Silvano there stood at my side, 
And watched him with me. < At my words of wonder, 
(For truth 'twas wonderful to see the broker 
In earnest speech with such a man as Pablo) 
Silvano > [and] told me how, short time before 
Febro demanded, if he might not steal 
To Pablo unobserved; and did assure me 
He feared his master was not in his mind; 
Wherefore, in proof, he told me how, before, 
Febro had talked with senor Cabarero 
Inviting him to robbery and flight, 
And such wild things as surely proved him mad. 

CAB. 

Put me on oath, and let me swear this true. 

FEB. 

Why this is true. 

FRAN. 

0, father! father! 

PALM. 

Febro! 

FEB. 

I say 'tis true; where is the need to swear it? 



678 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PALM. 

Febro, be wise; — I pity thee. 

FEB. 

I never 
Thought to conceal it. Without fear, I own it ; 
I talked with Cabarero, and did urge him 
To rob me. — 

CAB. 

He confesses ! 

FRAN. 

Pray you, stop him : 
He knows not what he says — 0, father! 

FEB. 

Boy, 

Did I e'er teach thee then to lie? — I own it 
I bade him rob me, <at the evil urgings 
Of my bad fancy ; > for I hoped that act 
Might bring him to the scaffold; and I thought, 
If he were dead, Ramon, my outcast Ramon, 
Might be mine own again. 

CAB. 

Now by my faith, 
That Ramon, whom he seems to love so well, 
He kept in want and misery, and knew it. 
For Ramon I besought him, he denied me. 
He owns the urging — ay, he urged me sore. 
I will not say with what rich tempting offers. 
In sooth, I thought him mad; for wherefore should he, 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 679 

In his old age, invent so wild a fraud? 

'Tis true, he had had losses — and perhaps 

These same had turned his brains ; wherefore I hope 

Your excellency will be merciful. 

Sure he was mad ; though subtle and discreet 

In the vile plan he showed me. 

FEB. 

O, thou villain! 
I am sorry I did spare thee. For a little 
I could have bought thy life. — Your highness 
hears him! 

CAB. 

Your highness hears him ! Pablo will confess 
He would have bought him to assassinate me. 
It was not safe for him to have me live; 
But nevertheless I bring not that against him. 

FEB. 

It is not true; and Pablo knows I told him, 
We would this bad man leave to heaven. 

PALM. 

Still Pablo! 
And wilt thou still, unhappy, Febro, darken 
Thy hope by such admissions? What, indeed! 
Hold speech with Pablo? and on such black subjects? 
Talk with a wretch about another's murder? 

FEB. 

I talked with Pablo ; will your highness blame me ? 

It was of Ramon, and his miseries; 

I gave him money too — it was for Ramon ! 

I sought his house, but it was still for Ramon ! 



680 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CAB. 

And Ramon should have been his accessory ! 

{Apart to Ramon.) Peace, < on thy life! > There is 

good proof of this; 
Will not your excellency list to Pablo? 
The bark was ready on the river; seek it; 
It waits for Febro — Pablo can speak all. 

PALM. 

He shall be heard. Speak thou again, Mendoza. 

I am amazed and shocked. What know'st thou more, 

To make this madness yet more probable? 

MEN. 

My terrace roof o'erlooks Baptista's garden. 

I sat above, to breathe the vesper air; 

And twice or thrice, I marked a glimmering lamp 

Among the shrubs, and, in the end, a light 

Flashing as from an open door, where was 

No door, save one ne'er opened. <This thing moved 

me; 
And giving all my faculties to watch, 
Forthwith I heard low murmurs as of voices, 
And, once or twice, the crashing of men's feet 
Along the pebbled alleys. > Straight I ran 
To give the alarm. Febro was in the vault, 
And all the evening had been ; so I learned 
From his affrighted daughter, who was sure 
(And so Silvano) he had not passed out. 
Judge my surprise to find the door well locked, 
And Febro vanished! how, but through the door 
That opened on the garden? and with what, 
Save the rich treasures which were there no more ? 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 68 1 

FRAN. 

Alas, the key that oped that garden door, 
Was lost a month ago; and my poor father 
Tomorrow would have walled it up. 

PALM. 

Tomorrow ? 
For a whole month he left his vaults exposed? 
This — Leave the substance of confiding men 
To a month's accidents and knaveries! — 
This looks but darkly. Speak; what more, Mendoza? 

MEN. 

Some wild words dropped from mine own daughter's 

lips: 
She had abruptly visited the house, 
And stumbled on a man close muffled up, 
Who brushed by her, and fled; and, in addition, 
Found Leonor confounded and perturbed, 
Her mantle in her hand, and at her side 
A bundle, seemingly prepared for flight. — 

FEB. 

My daughter ! If thou beest a man and father, 

Discharge me straight, and let me save my child. 

That slave Rolando! O, I see it now; 

He is the rogue! 'tis he has broke my vaults, 

And steals my girl away ! — Let me begone. 

My Leonor! — I'll give you up my life, 

If you seek that ; but let me save my child ! 

PALM. 

Stay. My heart bleeds for thee. I cannot free thee. 
This charge is heavy, and most like to truth. 



682 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

You have no heart ! — Francisco, you are free ; 
You have not robbed, nobody calls you rogue — 
Get thee to home, and to thy sister. 

FRAN. 

Father! 

FEB. 

Save me thy sister, or V 11 live to curse thee — 

(Exit Francisco.) 
I thought your excellency was a man! 
You gave me friendship too. 

PALM. 

I did, Baptista, 
And will — disprove this fearful charge. 

FEB. 

My child! 
You keep me here, to set me mad with charges 
That make me seem a rogue; and all the while 
Dishonor seeks my child — A step might save her ! 

MEN. 

Let him be satisfied ; his girl is safe ; 
I left Juana with her. 

FEB. 

Heaven reward thee ! 
I will forgive thee all thou hast said against me. 
She has not fled! How could I think she would? 
Fly from me in my wretchedness! and with 
The man that robbed me ! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 683 

CAB. 

Is not this well carried? — 

{Apart to Ramon.) 
Hold up thy head — Thou seest how fortune helps us. 

PALM. 

Hast thou still more, Mendoza? 



MEN. 

Picked up the cloak of Pablo. 

PAB. 

I lost it in the garden. 



Silvano here 



I am guilty, 



MEN. 

But little more 
Have I to say, but, haply, that most fatal. 
With officers, we followed to the inn; 
And there, in the hands of Cabarero, stood 
Unhappy Febro. 

FEB. 

Ay, most miserable! 
< Ramon, why didst thou say those things to me? 
I think they have turned my brain ! 

MEN. 

Wretched Baptista ; > 
With still, even in his frightened grasp, a bag 
Of the same coin that had that moment vanished. 



684 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



FEB. 

I took it there — Why look ye thus upon me ? 
I bore it with me to redeem my son. 

CAB. 

Ay, sooth, with three bags more! 

(Apart to Ramon.) 

Think of Juana ! 
< This thing is for a time. > Senor Mendoza 
Will say he found them: faith, 'twas Pablo brought 

them. 
I can attest how this was all discovered. 

PALM. 

Mendoza, is this true? 

MEN. 

Indeed most true; 



Here is the gold. 

PALM. 

What fiend possessed thee, Febro? 

FEB. 

Well , do you judge it true ? How got it there ? 
I do not know; I took but one bag with me, 
To save my boy. 

PALM. 

Whom didst thou counsel with? 
Alas, all weighs against thee. Hadst thou spoke 
But to thy daughter, or thy man, of this. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 685 

FEB. 

I spoke with none : and wherefore should I speak ? 
Will Pablo charge me ? Pablo did deceive me ; 
He told me lies of Ramon. 

CAB. 

There again ! 
He told some truths — he told where they had hid 



Their ruffian spoils. 

FEB. 

He did! and are they found? 
All will be well again ! Confess all, Pablo, 
Where didst thou hide the gold? 

PALM. 

<Now, but that I 
Here see the wanderings of a dotish man, 
I should pronounce this folly innocence. 
Febro, attend : thy star is darkening fast ; 
And the old trunk, whose wealthy branches hid 
The secret rot that hollowed at its heart, 
Is trembling in the tempest : lo, the bolt 
Comes to the earth, and hisses at thy front 
A moment, ere it fells thee. > Speak no more, 
If not more wisely — Thou, Mendoza, art, 
In all thou hast said, confirmed? 

MEN. 

I am. 

PALM. 

And thou, Antonio, on thy hopes of heaven, 
Speak'st but the truth? 



686 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

CAB. 

I do. 
< (Apart to Ramon.) 

Shudder no more. — > 
And Pablo will swear all as I have said. 
If they do find the gold he swore they buried, 
'Twill show his truth. 

MEN. 

They have already found it; 
Yet a small part alone — some thousand ducats. 

PALM. 

Thou swear'st this, Pablo ? 

PAB. 

Yes, your highness, yes: 
I hope for mercy ! 

PALM. 

Tell mine officers 
Where lie the greater profits of thy crime. 

PAB. 

I know no more; I left the bags with Febro, 
And him i' the garden, that I might straight bury 
Mine own share in the place whereof I told them. 
As for the rest, good faith, I know no more; 
Febro had charge of that. 

FEB. 

Now, were heaven just, 
Thou shouldst die with this slander in thy throat, 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 687 

Monster of falsehood! Has it come to this? 

Is't true? is't possible? a man like me, 

Old, — in the twilight of my years, and looking 

Into the dusky midnight of my grave, — 

An old man that has lived a life, whereon 

No man hath found a stain < Oh ! you are mad, 

To think this thing of me. > A fraud ? a fraud ! 

What ! / commit it ? with these gray hairs too ? 

And without aim, — save to enrich this rogue, 

That swears away my life? 

PALM. 

Aimless, indeed, 
Unnatural, and most incredible; 
And therefore easily disproved, hadst thou 
One proof beyond its wonder. <Give me proof; 
Discredit not this knave, I know him well ; 
But show thou wert not with him, — or for what; 
And hadst no gold with thee — or wherefore hadst it ; 
Or do what will be better for thy soul, — 
Rouse from this dotish fit that has transformed thee, > 
Repent, confess, deliver up the spoils 
<Of thy unhallowed avarice; and, in memory 
Of thy once stainless fame (no more unsullied) > 
And in regard of years that should be reverend, 
In pity and in peace, we will discharge thee. 

FEB. 

I do repent me — of my miseries; 
I do confess — that I am wronged and lost, 
Robbed, and traduced, and by collusion slain, 
Trapped by false witnesses, and by an unjust judge 
Unrighteously condemned. 



688 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PALM. 

Say'st thou, Baptista! 
" An unjust judge?" "unrighteously condemned?" 
What say the witnesses ? thy friend, Mendoza ? 
Will he traduce thee? What Antonio here? 
Does he gain aught to harm thee? What this Pablo? 
Who prates his own life into jeopardy? 
And what — By heaven, I would have spared thee 

that!— 
What says thy son ? 



FEB. 

My son! my Ramon! Ay, let Ramon speak, — 
Hah ! what ! does Ramon charge me ? 

PALM. 

Hear'st thou, Ramon? 

CAB. 

< (Apart to Ramon.) 
Wilt thou be ruined ?> 

FEB. 

Ramon ? 

PALM. 

Dost thou see i 
Horror hath made him dumb. Had he a word 
To aid thy misery, he had spoken it. 

FEB. 

Dost thou accuse me, boy? I do defy thee! 
What ! swear against thy father ? Ope thy lips ; 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 689 

< Speak what thou canst. Oh, now I have been 

mad! — > 
Thou know'st full well for what I sought thee out. 
Why art thou silent? <Lo, a word of thine 
Would clear up all ; speak thou that word. Accuse me ? 
My son accuse me?> By the curse, not yet 
Uttered nor thought of — by the father's curse, 
That will convert thy bosom to a hell, 
Ne'er to be quenched by penitence and prayers, 
Speak, and speak truly. 

PALM. 

Stand aside. 

FEB. 

Ha, ha! 
One word clears all ; and he will speak it. Hark ! 

(Ramon, endeavoring to speak, falls into a swoon.) 
My son! my son! oh, you have killed my Ramon! 

PALM. 

'Tis thou hast done it. < What ! though thou wert so 

cruel, 
Though thou hadst driven him from thy roof and love, 
He could not speak the word that should destroy 

thee.> 
Bear him away; his silence speaks enough, 
I will not force him to unlock his lips, 
In the unnatural charge. 

(Ramon is led out.) 

Art thou content ? 
All speaks thy guilt. Confess; repair thy fault; 
Disgorge thy spoils. 



690 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Do with me what you will, 
You have robbed and ruined me among you all, 
<What care I now how soon you take my life?> 
You make me out a felon, and have turned, — 
Heaven plague you all — have turned my children 
'gainst me. 

PALM. 

Obstinate still ? Confess, and take our mercy. 

FEB. 

The mercy of oppressors ! Heaven confound you ! 

I know why you condemn me, ay, full well: 

< I could have paid you all — I have claims yet ; > 

You kill me for your losses. — When you will : 

The grave is quiet, and Heaven will yet avenge me. 

PALM. 

Amazed and sorrowing, we pronounce thee guilty 

Of a most mad, most base, and wicked fraud, 

For which our laws of Spain demand thy life. 

Yet, in respect of thy augmented years, 

We spare thee that. Depart; live and repent thee. 

What property still openly is thine 

We seize for benefit of the many wronged. 

We give thee life, but judge thee ignominious. 

And to remain in ward of officers, 

In thine own house, till all be satisfied. 

FEB. 

Why you were better take my life at once; 
<You leave me naught to feed me! and> the air 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 691 

You grant me leave to breathe, is but the poison 
Of a corrupted reputation. Kill me; 
What matters it? Your mercy is a name 
For a new rack, wherewith you will torment me — 
The rack of shame and pitiless degradation. 
A rogue ! — a felon ! — 

(Febro is led out.) 

PALM. 

<Poor wretch! I'll think of thee - 
I have a dream — and though all seem to speak thee 
Dotard and knave, it shows me other things 
But hide them yet. 

CAB. 

May it please your excellency, 

Permit me to depart, and look to Ramon, 

A very unhappy man. 



PALM. 

Away! 



(Exit Cabarero.) 



PALM. 

Thou, Pablo, 
We do adjudge to prison, to resolve 
More fitly of thy fate. 

PAB. 

I claim the royal pardon. 

PALM. 

I'll find if thou hast won it. 

(Pablo is led out.) 



692 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

Look to it, officers: this man, Antonio, 

Watch strictly; have him ever in your eyes; 

Give him no passage from the gates. For Pablo, 

Fright him with words of death, and find what secrets 

May drop from terror. Watch me Ramon too. 

I have strange fancies, — but these hints will serve you. 

Mendoza, have thine eye upon Baptista; 

What misery may come to him thou know'st; 

Let him not want, nor let his children suffer. 

What cost soever thou art at to help them, 

I will requite thee; look to them tonight; 

Tomorrow come to me again; I have 

A thought to hold discourse on — but not now. > 

(Exeunt.) 

< SCENE II. The street before the Palace. (Enter 
Cabarero and Ramon.) 

ram. 
The Viceroy has given him his life? Well, I am glad 
of that. — Else should I have confessed all. His 
freedom too! 

CAB. 

Ay, I tell thee, — his life and freedom, — all which is 
contrary to law. — Such a fraud is a matter for 
hanging. 

RAM. 

And thou thought'st, when thou persuadest me to 
witness against him, that he should die! 

CAB. 

By my faith, no: — I knew his life was in no danger. 
I told thee the Viceroy was too much his friend. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 693 

RAM. 

He will come to want, Antonio! We will send him 
money. 

CAB. 

'Slife, this is superfluous — and full of risk. 

RAM. 

I tell thee, he shall have money and relief, though it 
bring me to the gallows. 

CAB. 

Wilt thou be wise? 

RAM. 

He was coming to me with pardon! With money to 
relieve me! and with that money did I witness 
him to destruction. 

CAB. 

Foh! thou said'st not a word. 

RAM. 

Hah! that's true: no man can accuse me — I said no- 
thing against him. — But my silence — my silence 
damned him, and it damns me. There is no 
fiend like to me. Witness against my father! 
Kill my father! — Cain killed his brother, and 
his forehead was marked with the finger of God. 
— I — I — What is justice? / have no mark, who 
have killed my father ! 

CAB. 

Faith, not a jot — there is no mark about thee. — 



694 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



RAM. 



Thou liest, — it is here, — my soul is sealed with horror 
— black, black, — the leprosy of an Ethiop — the 
gangrene of a demon — all darkness — darkness — of 
horror. 



CAB. 



Why, thou madman, wilt thou betray thyself? Think 
of Juana. 



RAM. 

Have I not bought her, even with my soul's perdition? 
How shall I look her in the face? 

CAB. 

Hark'ee ! I am tired of thy whining. If thou wilt be a 
man, I am thy friend still ; — if thou wilt endanger 
thyself, and me too, by thy puling, boyish fright, 
I [will leave thee to manage thine own affairs. 
By my faith, I will. 

RAM. 

Desert me not, or I have lost Juana. — Give me thy 
advice; I will follow thy bidding. 

CAB. 

Let us depart. — Thy father is coming. — They are 
turning him from the palace. 

RAM. 

Horror! — I cannot look on him. Away! away! — 

(Exeunt.) > 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 695 

SCENE III. A room in Febro's house. {Enter 
Francisco and Leonor.) 

FRAN. 

Ask me not a word, not now, — not now, — I will tell 
thee anon. — Our father is alive, I tell thee, — 
alive and well: — Is not that enough? It will 
break her heart, — Is not that enough? At the 
palace, I tell thee, sister. 

LEON. 

I am glad of that. — He is safe with the Viceroy. And 
the robbers, Francisco? 

FRAN. 

Yes, yes! — heaven will discover them. — The robbers! 
the robbers! Sister, you have done wrong to 
entertain a lover in secret. My father accuses 
him of the robbery. 

LEON. 

Him! brother! Rolando! what, Rolando! Oh, he was 
with me. He is a gentleman. My father does 
him a great wrong. — 

FRAN. 

It may be so. Heaven protect thee. — Receive him no 
more. Tarry here; I will to the vault a moment, 
— I will be near thee. 

{Exit Francisco.) 
{Enter Fernando.) 

LEON. 

Oh, Rolando, Rolando, my brother, my father — 



696 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



FERN. 



Peace, Leonor, I overheard thy brother. — Dost thou 
think me a robber? 

LEON. 

What, thou? You must forgive my poor father. — 
This robbery has perplexed him sorely. But 
what disturbs thee ? Thou art very pale, Rolando ! 

FERN. 

Listen : this moment is the last I can look upon thee — 

LEON. 

Rolando ! 

FERN. 

If thou wilt fly with me, I will give up my father — 
my hopes — my station — everything, for thee; 
if thou wilt not, I can never look upon thee more. 

LEON. 

You are jesting with me, Rolando! Oh, I can never 
leave my father. 

FERN. 

Heaven bless thee, Farewell. 

LEON. 

Rolando ! 

FERN. 

We must forget one another — I could tell thee a reason 
— but thou wilt hear it from others. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 697 

LEON. 

O, my father! my father! 

FERN. 

I will love thee better, and forever — Thou shalt be 
happier too. Thou fliest from misery. 

{Exeunt.) 
{Re-enter Francisco, with a Rosary.) 

FRAN. 

This is enough to sear mine eyes forever, 
And turn my heart to ashes. — Wretched brother! 
Thrice wretched father! Leonor, ho! Leonor! 
Sister! Sister! Gone! oh, vanished! — Heaven, 
Thou art awroth with us! What, sister! sister! 

{Exit.) > 

SCENE IV. The street before Mendoza's house. 
{Enter Juana and Ramon.) 

juan. 
Prosperity, — wealth, — happiness! — They come too 

late. 
Oh, Ramon, Ramon! talk'st thou thus to me? 
Witness against thy father! say no more 
Of happy fortune; but disprove this tale, 
That racks my heart with horror. — Happy indeed ! 
Thou art awroth with us! What, disprove it: 
Witness against thy father! Didst thou, Ramon! 
Say no, and make me happy. 

RAxM. 

They deceived thee — 
I spake no word against him, — not a word, 
No man can charge me that. 



698 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JUAN. 

No, not a word ! — 
They charge not that. But thou wert there against 

him! 
Thy presence was enough ! 

RAM. 

Reproach no more: 
I chose not to be with his enemies — 
They dragged me with them. Speak of this no more. 

JUAN. 

Of this forever, till thou clear up all ! 

Ramon, thou know'st me not. — Be thou the man 

My heart has pictured thee, oppressed but worthy, 

Sore tempted, but with yet a noble spirit, 

That thrones its nakedness on a rock of honor; 

And poor and wretched though thou be, deserted, 

Contemned and hated — nay, by all men cursed — 

Still do I rest thy friend and advocate — 

Thy more than friend, thy loving wife forever ! 

RAM. 

I am what thou behold'st — thy long betrothed, 
Once faith-preserved, and ever faithful Ramon — 
One and the same. 

JUAN. 

Ah, no, no more the same — 
Thy father, Ramon! — 

RAM. 

Who, for thy love, have borne 
Sorrow and wrath, and dreamed they were not ills, 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 699 

Locked hands with shame, and deemed me tmdefiled, 
Councilled with villainy, and thought it virtue, 
Because it pointed out a path to thee. 

JUAN. 

A word 
And I have done with thee. — Then for what fate 
Heaven has in store, the altar or the grave — 
I shall not care. — This do they charge thee, Ramon — 
Thy father was accused by noted knaves — 
His son — no, no — his son did not accuse him; 
But when adjured — (thou tremblest !) When adjured 
By the poor father, yea, besought, to speak 
Against the charge which he did know was false, 
Condemned his father with accusing looks — 
With a dumb lip assented, and with that silence 
Sealed him to shame and death ! 



RAM. 

What could I more ? 



I did all this for thee. 



JUAN. 

For me! for me! 
Thou might'st have stabbed thy brother in the dark, 
Bartered thy sister for a villain's gold, 
Done anything unnatural and base, 
And told me, 'twas for me! for me! for me! 

RAM. 

Thou art unjust. — In this is grief enough, 
Without thy keen reproaches. — What could I more? 
I held my peace. — Wouldst thou have had me charge 
him? 



700 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

JUAN. 

Didst thou then know him guilty? Speak me that. 

Upon thy soul's eternal welfare speak, 

Speak me the truth. — What, dost thou know him 

guilty? 
Know him a felon? 

RAM. 

This is then thy fear: — 
Thou scorn'st the felon's son? 

JUAN. 

Hah! if I do? 

What, trap him to't? — Wo's me! 

RAM. 

Juana, time will show 
Who is the guilty wretch — 

JUAN. 

Oh, Time will show! 
Give it not up to time! By all the grief 
That stains thy sire's gray hairs — by all the pure 
And solemn magic round thy mother's grave, 
I charge thee speak the truth. — Thou dost not think 
Thv father's guilty? 

RAM. 

Nay, Juana! 

JUAN. 

Speak, 
Or never speak me more. — Tremble not — speak — 
Thou dost not think him guilty? — 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 701 

RAM. 

No, — no, — 

JUAN. 

Wretch !— 
Thy lips were dumb, and thou didst know him inno- 
cent! 
You heard him slandered, and stood silent by ! 
You saw him perish, and held back the truth 
That would have saved him ! 

RAM. 

Is it come to this? 
Is this the guerdon to reward my love? 

JUAN. 

Love! Did I love thee! What, this spirit, that, in 

A case of flesh, was all of adamant — 

A disguised devil ! Is it come to this ? 

Thou say'st that well. — For now I know thee well, 

And hate thee — yes, abhor thee! 



Still unjust, 



RAM. 

Thou kill'st me for my faith. 

JUAN. 

Now do I know 
They spoke the truth, who called thee base and vile- 
This fiendish act is warranty enough 
For any depth of lowness. — Oh, how fallen 
Thou art now, Ramon! A year, a month ago! — 



702 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

But that no more. — I could have died for thee, 
Hadst thou held fast to thine integrity — 
Now though it break my heart, I cast thee from me 
Forever, forever — I'll never see thee more. 

RAM. 

Thou mak'st me mad. — The wrongs that I have done 

I did for thee. — I had no other hope, 

No other way to win thee. Dost thou leave me? — 

Then I am lost, — and nothing left with me 

But the sharp goadings of a vain repentance. 

False hearted maid! 'tis thou hast led me on 

Into this gulf of crime : What but a hope 

To win thee, could have made me what I am 

A thief and parricide ! 

JUAN. 

Oh, heaven, that opest 
Mine eyes upon this horror, still support me — 
A thief! a thief! 

RAM. 

I said not that. 

JUAN. 

A demon 
Blacker than all! Confess thy crime and die. 
Confess, for all shall know thee! — O, away, 
And perish in the desert, — I denounce thee — 
What ho, my father — ho ! 

RAM. 

Juana ! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 703 

JUAN. 

Father! 
Justice! there shall be justice done to all, — 
Justice, I tell thee, monster, though I die — 
Justice, ho, father! 

(Enter Mendoza — Ramon flies.) 

MEN. 

What's the matter, girl? 
That wretched Ramon ! — 

JUAN. 

To the palace, father — 
Quick, lead me to the Viceroy. 

MEN. 

Art thou raving? 

JUAN. 

Oh, father, I've a story for his highness, 

Will make all rave. — And let me speak it now, 

While I have strength. 

MEN. 

Come in, compose thyself — 
<Thou art disturbed, and know'st not what thou 

say'st, 
The palace, indeed — Thou art fitter for thy couch — 
So wan and ghastly. — > 

JUAN. 

The palace, father, the palace! 
(He leads her in.) 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACTV 

SCENE I. A room in Febro's house. (Enter 
Silvano and Febro.) 



FEB. 

A rogue ! a felon ! convicted and condemned ! 
No wretch upon the street more given to scorn — 
No mine-slave fretting under blows and lashes, 
Held to more shame. — Robbed, and for reparation 
Despoiled of all — even of my children's bread — 
And a good honest name too. — Well, indeed, 
Heaven looks upon the sparrow's unfledged brood, 
When murderers kill the dam — And Ramon too ! 
Well, I've two children yet; — < where is Francisco? 
And Leonor? my children ?> It is true, 
Their sire brings shame upon them — But I think 
They will not turn upon me — Dost thou hear me? 
Where is Francisco ? 

SIL. 

Oh, alas, dear master, 
The house is empty. 

FEB. 

Ah! 
704 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 705 

SIL. 

The doors all open — 
No living creatures present but ourselves. 

FEB. 

<My children, I tell thee! 

SIL. 

Master ! > 

FEB. 

O, blest heaven, 
Strike me to death, for I am desperate — 
My children leave me: — Turn my heart to earth, 
Ere I do curse them ! 

SIL. 

I think, I hope 
My mistress now is with Mendoza's daughter. 

FEB. 

Why, so she is ! I should have thought of that — 

I dare be sworn she is — Francisco too — 

Where should he be, but with his sister? — Go — 

Fetch them to me. And tell them not to fear 

I'll weigh upon them long — this wrong will end 

Ere many days, and then men will forget 

To charge them with the shame of their dead father. 

SIL. 

Francisco, sir! 

{Enter Francisco.) 

4S 



7o6 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



FEB. 



My daughter, boy, — my Leonor ! 
Where did you leave your sister? 



<0, dear father, 



Fled, boy, fled!— 



FRAN. 

You'll curse me when I tell you! 

FEB. 

Ha! ha! eloped! — dishonoured! 

FRAN. 

Father, dear father! 

FEB. 

Drugged to the bottom! — No gall and venom now, 
But I must drink them ! With a villain fled ! 
From shame to deeper shame — And in mine hour 
Of misery too ! Oh, curse her ! curse her ! 

FRAN. 

Father — 
Be not so rash — she may be yet recovered— 

FEB. 

I gave her to thy charge ! > 

FRAN. 

Oh, dear my father, 
I left her but an instant — but an instant 
Looked through the vault — and in that instant she 
Was stolen away — Father, I followed her — 
Saw her, at distance, with the ravisher — 
He bore her to the palace. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 707 

FEB. 

To the palace ! 
A ruffian of the guard — a Spanish ruffian 
Shall steal my child, and have the Court's protection — 
I'll have her back though the proud viceroy's self 
Should bar against me with his villains all — 

FRAN. 

Father, I followed to the door — the guards 
Denied me entrance, though I prayed it of them — 
Struck me back with their staves, and with rude voices 
Taunted and menaced me. 

FEB. 

Why back again ! 
Thou wert the felon's son — that was the reason 
They jeered thee with thine infamy — Thou seest ! 
'Tis infamy to bear the name of Febro. 
Struck thee back with their staves! because thou 

sought'st 
To save thy sister ! They shall strike me too — 
The blows that bruise the body are not much, 
When that the heart is crushed — Come thou with me — 
A felon though I be, I will have entrance — 
Though infamous and lost, I will have justice. 

{Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. A room in the Palace. (Palmera and 
others discovered.) 

PALM. 

Frighted with death, and will not make confession? 
I know not why— all circumstances bring 



708 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

New confirmation of the broker's guilt, 
And yet, within my breast, some gentle spirit 
Whispers me doubt, and plays the advocate. 
That Pablo leave not yet — Hark to me, officer; 
Carry him to the rack, but harm him not — 
< Place him before the engine, let his fancy 
Work on its terrors, till it paints his joints 
Crackling and sundering, his sinews bursting, 
His strong bones crashing in the ordeal — 
Nay, for an instant bind him to the wheel, > 
Make him believe that ye will torture him, — 
(Yet torture not, ye shall not harm a hair — ) 
Thus far put on the executioner, 
<And, in his terror, if no words of guilt 
Burst from his lips, my conscience doubts no more, 
And the poor mad old man is lost forever. > 

(Exit Officer.) 

febro. (Within.) 

I will have entrance! Villains, stand aside! 
I'll see the Viceroy, and I'll have my daughter! 

PALM. 

What now! the broker! At this midnight hour, 
Madding before the palace! 

(Re-enter Officer.) 

OFF. 

Please, your excellency, 
Febro is struggling with the guards for entrance, 
He will not be driven back, — he calls your highness, 
And raves about his daughter. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 709 

PALM. 

He is distracted : — 
Let him come in — Poor wretch, I pity him. 

{Enter Febro, Francisco, and Silvano.) 

<What now, old man? What is the matter with 
thee?> 

FEB. 

You bar your doors against me, and you put 

Armed rogues therein to thrust me back with staves, 

And keep my daughter from me. 

PALM. 

What would you, Febro? 
My doors are shut against the ignominious. 

FEB. 

Ay, ignominious! But I'll have my child — 

<C I'll have my daughter; fetch her to me straight, > 

Were you a crowned king, I'll have her! 

PALM. 

Now 
What fiend hath seized thee, Febro? If thy child 
Have fled from thee, heaven pity thy gray hairs, 
Why shouldst thou seek her here? 

FEB. 

Why, she is here! 
Your rogue has stolen her; you know that well — 
And you protect him. <Oh, heaven visit you 
With pangs and misery. > Give me back my child — 
Give me my daughter, and I will forgive you 
The other mischiefs you have done me. 



710 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PALM. 

Alas, 
Tis madness fills thee with this fantasy: 
<How should thy child be here! 

FEB. 

Will you not yield her?> 
I do beseech you, give me back my child — 
My loving Leonor! Oh, now, for pity, 

(He kneels.) 
Be just to me. Look on me, noble sir, 
You have broke my heart, but give me back my 
daughter. 

PALM. 

Rise up, thou old and miserable man, 
I pity thee, but know not of thy child. 

feb. (Arising.) 
I do demand her; keep her, if you dare! 
What if I be a miserable man, 
A gray, old, broken, miserable man, 
A most dishonest and convicted felon, 
Ashes upon my head, and, in my heart, 
Anguish that's measureless — a man despised, 
Stained, shunned, shut out from all men's sympathies? 
I have my rights, and, though so friendless, seek them; 
I have my rights, and, though so poor, will speak them ; 
<I have my rights, and, though so weak, will have 

them. > 
I ask my child, and, by my life, I'll have her. 
I say I'll have her. — Some ruffian of your guard 
Ravished her from me, while you kept me here — 
Rolando — 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 711 



PALM. 



Again art thou deceived, 
I have no villains in my keeping, Febro, 
And know,— of all my household, there is none 
So named Rolando. 

FEB. 

Tis a false name, then, 
The wretch is here — he has my daughter too — 
Francisco followed him, and saw him enter, 
My daughter with him. 

PALM. 

Say'st thou this, Francisco? 

FRAN. 

I do, my lord; I followed him, and saw him 
Pass, with my sister, through the private gate — 

PALM. 

What ho, my guard! — the axeman with his block! 
Let every man o' the court appear before me. 
Thou shalt have justice, Febro, on the head 
Of him that wrongs thee. 

(All come in.) 

If thou know'st the man 
Point me him out among this multitude, 
Dishonored though thou be, by all the saints, 
There is no man so noble, that shall wrong thee. 
And pay no reckoning to thy miseries. 



712 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Hah ! no, no, thou art not Rolando — No — 
Dost thou not see him, boy? <Is he not here? 
Mine eyes are dimming. > Let the villain speak, 
If he will straightway give me up my child, 
I will forgive him; — yea — and will pursue 
This thing no further. 

FRAN. 

Rolando is not here. 

PALM. 

Thou seest, thou wert mistaken boy. 

FRAN. 

Your highness, no — 

I saw them well, Rolando and my sister — 
She turned her face, when I did call to her; 
Rolando dragged her on. — 

PALM. 

Are all men here? 
This moves me much. Search thou the palace o'er. 

(To an Officer.) 
Every man's lodge, even to mine own apartments. 
Let no man stay thee. (Exit Officer.) Hath any of 

the guard 
Fled from the palace? The ruffian shall be found; 
I'll search the city for him. 

(Enter Fernando.) 

FEB. 

Hah! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 713 



FRAN. 



FEB. 



Rolando ! 



Ha! ha! the rogue! the villain! I have him fast! 
Give up my child ! 

PALM. 

How! Febro! 

FEB. 

This is the man ! 

palm . 

< My son ! my son ! Down from my seat of pomp, 
Into the earth of shame; I am as miserable, 
As wretched now as Febro. Dost thou charge him? 
What him, Baptista?> This is my son, Fernando! 

FEB. 

Thy son? Thy son shall ruin my poor girl, 

And break my heart! Oh, wretch, where is my 

daughter? 
<Thou didst delude her from me! Ruined, ruined! 
Howl thou in hell for this! yes, howl, forever !> 
Thou hast stolen the dearest daughter of the earth, 
And given her up to shame; oh, heaven distract thee, 
Make thy heart mad, but not thy brain, that thou 
May'st rot within, and have a sense of it! 

<FERN. 

Oh, saints, avert this curse, so undeserved. 
Most rash old man. > 



714 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

PALM. 

Didst thou ensnare the girl? 
< Oh , wretched boy ! > 

FERN. 

Dear father ! Father, pardon ! 
{Kneeling.) 

FEB. 

You hear him? He confesses. <0 bitter wretch !> 

PALM. 

Stand up before me as a criminal, 
What — to his chambers! Bring the maiden forth, 
Old man, thou shalt have justice, though the gift 
Leave me all childless. 

{Some Officers go out.) 

FERN. 

Father ! 

PALM. 

Peace, false wretch — 
Thy judge — no more thy father. {A noise.) More 
woes to mad us ! 

{Cries of " Febro is innocent!") 
What cry is this? 

(Ramon and Cabarero are brought in, and Juana and 
Mendoza.) 

juan. 
Justice, your excellency! 
Justice for Febro ! Villains have entrapped him ! 
False witnesses have sworn his life awav, 
And there thou seest the falsest ! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 715 

FEB. 

<0h, the villain! 
Give me my daughter, and then judge the rogues. > 

PALM. 

Speak, maiden, speak — if heaven have left me now 
One satisfaction greater than the grave, 
'T will be to right this wronged man. Which is he 
Thou call'st the falsest witness? 

JUAN. 

Look — 'tis Ramon — 

FEB. 

Ramon, my son ! 

JUAN. 

He did confess to me, 
He knew his father innocent. 

FEB. 

Oho, you hear! 
I knew my boy would right me. 

{Going toward Ramon.) 

juan. 

Hence, stand back, 
Touch not corruption — look on him no more. 
I do denounce him to vour excellency, 
As one conspiring 'gainst his father's life. 

PALM. 

Oh, most unnatural — 



716 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FEB. 

Hearken not to her — 
My Ramon ne'er conspired against me. 

JUAN. 

Hear me. 

He was my betrothed spouse, and well I loved him:- 

I give him up to justice, and accuse him, 

Even on his own admission, that he is — 

I live to say't — a false witness and a robber! 

<PALM. 

Can this be so?> 

FEB. 

Oh, thou unnatural girl! 
Hearken no more, your highness — she belies him. — 

{Re-enter ist Officer.) 
Ramon is wronged, and very innocent. 

ist Off. 

Please, your excellency, 

Pablo, in terror of the rack, confesses, — 

FEB. 

Pablo's the rogue and robber. 

ist Off. 

He confesses 
Himself participant in the robbery — 

CAB. 

He lies, base knave ! 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 717 

ist Off. 

And charges, with his oath, 
This man, Antonio, and the broker's son 
Ramon, to be his principals. 

PALM. 

Just heaven! 
And I have wronged thee, Febro? 

FEB. 

Pablo's a rogue! 
<What, Ramon? Ramon rob me? Ramon, my 

son!> 
I warn your highness, Pablo is a rogue, 
Not to be trusted. 

CAB. 

An atrocious rogue — 
A rogue foresworn — and moved to this invention 
By terror of the wheel. 

FRAN. 

Brother, confess — 

RAM. 

Away — 

FRAN. 

Confess, and save thy father's life — 
Repair the wrongs which thou hast done him. 

FEB. 

Sirrah, 
What dost thou mean? 



7i 8 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FRAN. 

What, not a word? Oh, heaven, 
Look down with pity on my father now! 
Oh, novv, your highness, spare my brother's life, 
For he is guilty of the robbery. 

<CAB. 

<Hark to the cub! — next he accuses me. > 

FEB. 

Why, thou base boy, dost thou accuse thy brother? 
Thy brother, wretch ? 

FRAN. 

Father, I do; forgive me. 



I curse thee, devil ! 



FEB. 



FRAN. 



Oh, curse me not, my father — 
I charge him to save thee — Hear me, my father — 
Thou know'st this rosary — 

FEB. 

'Tis Ramon's — ay — 
It was his mother's, and to keep her ever 
Before his eyes — his pure and holy mother — 
With mine own hands I hung it round his neck, 
To be the talisman of his memory. 

FRAN. 

Father, this found I in the vault. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 719 

FEB. 

The vault! 
Ramon ! my son ! My Ramon ! — 

RAM. 

Guilty! guilty! 
Give me to death — for I have killed my father! 
I am the robber and the parricide — 
The doomed and lost — the lost — oh, lost forever! 

(Rushes out.) 

PALM. 

Secure young Ramon : — This vile Antonio too — 

This devil-born destroyer of men's sons: 

I'll make him an example. Look to them — 

Have them in waiting. 

(Cabarero is taken out. Mendoza goes with them.) 

Fy, how now, Baptista? 

We have done thee wrong? 

FEB. 

Well, boy, we will go home — 
Confess and pray — Call Leonor! 

FRAN. 

Oh, father! 

PALM. 

His wits are fled — oh, fate, these thunderpeals 

So flashing through the heart, have done their work, 

And the mind's temple tumbles into ruin. 

Arouse thee, Febro! Thy wealth shall be restored — 

Lucas, the miner, hath his pit recovered, 

And pays thee back a golden recompense. 



720 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 

FRAN. 

He thinks no more of that. 

PALM. 

Thy daughter, Ferbo! 

FEB. 

I'll have you moan for this ! 

PALM. 

Thou shalt have justice. 
(Leonor is brought in.) 
Behold thy daughter! Thou shalt have justice full. 

FEB. 

My child! my child! 

LEON. 

Dear father! (Kneels.) 

FEB. 

O man of stone! 
Was I not wo enough, but you must steal 
My seraph from me? 

PALM. 

Name thou his punishment. 

If it be death, the knave shall die. 

fern. (Kneeling.) 

Forgive me! 

I could not speak while Febro seemed a felon ; 

Punish me now, since he is innocent. 



THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 721 

I stole thy daughter, but I wronged her not; 
Sire, I deceived thee, but I am no villain — 
Revoke thy curse ; and, father, bless my wife ! 

FEB. 

Is it even so ? thy wife ? 

PALM. 

N aught else is left 
For reparation — I the rites acknowledge 
And as my daughter here do welcome her. 

FEB. 

Thy wife! thy honored wife! — You do receive her? 
Why, now we shall be happy — Heaven be thanked! 
Ha, ha! a noble husband for my daughter! 
<A virtuous, honorable gentleman !> 
I'll make thee rich ! She's worthy of a king. — 
Happy! happy! (A cry.) 

(Re-enter Mendoza, with an Officer.) 

MEN. 

Alas, your highness, Ramon — 

FEB. 

Hah, Ramon! — Oh, thy white and quivering lips 
Speak a new horror ! 

MEN. 

Pitying his grief, 
And agony of mind, we led him forth 
On the balcony, where, confessing straight 
In what dark corner he had hid the gold, 
O' the sudden, with a shriek of desperation, 
He flung him from the height — and — 
46 



722 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 



PALM. 



MEN. 



Heaven ! 



So perished. 

[FEB. 

God, God, God!] (Febro falls.) 

<PALM. 

What, Febro ? Hast this last blow cracked thy heart ? 

There comes no sin without its sequent wo; — 

No folly but begets its punishment; 

And heaven, that strikes the malefactor down, 

Even with the greater culprits smites the less — 

The rigid sire and disobedient son. > 



THE END. 



INDEX 



Adventures of Robin Day, The, 

8, 9, 14, 15, 105 
A merican Monthly Magazine, 

The, 104, 112, 113, 114 
Appearance, Bird's personal, 

82, 122, 154 
Armitage, Ann, 5 
Hon. James, 5 

Baltimore Convention, 127, 
128, 129, 131 

Barr, Rev. Samuel, 5, 6, 16 

Bird, Rev. Frederick M., 105, 
114, 128, 129, 146 

John, 1, 2 

John, III., 3, 5, 6 

Mrs. Mary, 8, 9, 29, 71, 

122, 130, 151, 155 

Robert Montgomery, 

birth, 1 ; parentage, 1-5 ; 
childhood, 6-12; school days 
at New Castle Academy, 13- 
15, 20, 21; in Philadelphia, 
19, 20; at Germantown 
Academy, 21-23; at Univer- 
sity of Pennsylvania, 23-27; 
medical practice, 28 ; literary- 
apprenticeship, 32-35; Pelo- 
pidas, 37, 38; The Gladiator, 
38-49; meets Forrest, 39; 
Oralloossa, 53-55 ; travels 
with Forrest, 55-57; The 
Broker of Bogota, 57-60; 
rewrites Metamora, 60, 61 ; 
The Gladiator in England, 
61-65; personal and financial 
relations with Forrest, 68- 
71 ; Bird's sources, aims, and 
methods of workmanship, 



71-75; Calavar, 77-82; in 
England, 82-86; The Infidel, 
86-90; Hawks of Hawk Hol- 
low, 90-91; Sheppard Lee, 
93-96; Nick of the Woods, 
96-98; Magazines, 98-104; 
Peter Pilgrim, 104, 105; 
Adventures of Robin Day, 
105; income from novels, 
106; English editions, 106- 
107; marriage, 108-110; 
farming, 11 5-1 19; teaching, 
123-125; politics, 125-129; 
journalism, 133-143, 144, 
150, 151; death, 151-153; 
rank as man of letters, 153- 

159 

Thomas, 2, 3 

Thomas Jefferson, 32 

& Riddle, 6 

Black, Dr., 23, 24, 26, 27 
Boker, George H., 39, 147-150 
Brewer, John M., 21, 22 
Broker of Bogota, The, 57-60, 

126, 146, 156, 157, 577-722 
Brown, Brockden, 156 
Bryant, William Cullen, 37 
Bulwer, Sir Edward Lytton, 

84, 85, 86 
Burton, William E., 119, 120, 

121 

Cabin Cave, 115-119, 121, 122 
Calavar, 77-82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 

155. 166 
Caridorf, 26, 35 

City Looking Glass, The, 33, 35 
Clark, L. Gaylord, 99, 131 
Clark, W. Gaylord, 99 



723 



724 



INDEX 



Clarke, Thomas Cottrel, 99, 

in 
Clay, Henry, 127, 135, 136 
Clayton, John M., 125,, 127, 

128, 131, 133, 137, 143^145, 

146, 152 
Conrad, Judge R. T., 119, 120, 

!34. 135. 136 
Cooper, James F., 29, 77, 97, 

98, 158 
Copyright, International, 101- 

104 
Cowled Lover, The, 26, 35 

Death, 151-153 
Death of Meleager, The, 26 
Downing, Robert, 154 
Dramatic Author's Bill, 147- 

I 5° 

Dramatization of novels, 107 
Dunlap, William, 31, 32 
Durang, Charles, 44 

Elizabethan Drama, Bird on, 

25,26 
Emerson, R. W., 30 
Empson, Cornelius, 2 
English Editions of Bird, 106, 

107, 155 
Episcopalian Church, The, 19 

Fanatick, The, 34 

Farming, 11 5-1 19, 121, 122 

Forrest, Edwin, 36-40, 41-49, 
53-55. 61-65, 65-68, 68-71, 
119, 120, 131, 145, 146, 154, 
156, 158 

French and Indian War, 4 

Friendships, 130, 131 

Frost, John, 120, 121, 131, 132 

Germantown Academy, The, 

21, 22, 23, 123 
Gladiator, The, 38-41, 41-44, 

44-49, 51, 52, 61-65, 65-68, 

72, 120, 126, 146, 156, 157, 

297-440 
Giannone, 34 
Godey's Lady's Book, 99 



Graham, George R., 119, 133, 

134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 140 
Grimes, John, 26, 92, 93, 105 

Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 37 
Hawks of Hawk Hollow, The, 

90-91, 106 
Hoffman, Charles Fenno, 99, 

in, 112 
Home-life, Bird's, 130 
Howe, Samuel G., 112 

Ice Island, The, 35 

111 health, 113, 114, 144, 150, 

151 

Income from novels, 106 
Infidel, The, 86-90, 156 
Ipsico Poe, 105 
Isidora, 34 

Johnson, Walter R., 21-23, 123 
Jones, Joseph S., 31 
Journalism, 133-144 

Knickerbocker Magazine, 86, 

99, 100, 101-104, no 
King Philip, 34 

Lafayette, General, 7, 9, II 
Lawson, James, 37, 82, 86-88, 

89, 131 

Leggett, William, 36, 37 
Lexington, Battle of, 4 
Lounsbury, Thomas R., 30 

Magazines, Bird and the, 98- 

104, 110-113 
Mammoth Cave, 92, 105, 112 
Marriage, Bird's, 108 
Martineau, Harriet, 102-104 
Matthews, Brander, 29 
Mayer, family, The, 109-110 
Dr. Edward R., 61, 151, 

152, 153 

Misses, 83, 84, 109, no 

Rev. Philip F., 109, no, 

132 
McClellan, Dr. George, 119, 

I20, 121, 123, 125, 131, 132, 

146 
McCullough, John, 154, 158 



&■ 11 * 



INDEX 



725 



McKean, Thomas, 4 
McMichael, Morton, 133, 134, 

135, 136, 138, 140 
Medical practice, 28 
Men of the Hills, 34 
Metamora, 37, 60-61, 70 
Mexico, Bird's interest in, 55, 

57.77 

New Amstel, 11, 16 

New Castle, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10- 

16, 20, 21, 115, 122, 125, 127, 

138 
New Castle Academy, 3, 13- 

15, 20, 21 
News of the Night, 26 
Nick of the Woods, 27, 96-98, 

147, 154, 155 
North American, The, 132, 133- 

143. 151. 159 

Oralloossa, 53-55, 126, 146, 156, 
157, 441-576 

Parrish, Dr. Joseph, 24 
Pelopidas, 37-38, 119, 120, 121, 

126, 157, 171-296 
Pennypacker, Hon. S. W., 155 
Pennsylvania Medical College, 

123 
Philadelphia, 16, 20, 24, 27, 28, 

32, 40, 43, 52, 53, 54, 57, 94, 

108, 109, in, 112, 119, 123, 

133, 134. 136, 153 
Philadelphia Central High 

School, 132 
Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 

The, 26, 33 
Poe, Edgar A., 91, 95, 100-101 
Political Life, Bird's, 125-129 
Powers, Hiram, 131 



Prescott, W. H., 158 
Presbyterian Church, The, 7 

Rodney, Miss Emily, 122 

Saul's Last Day, 26 

Scott, Sir Walter, 29, 87, 88, 

91, 101, 158, 159 
Secret Records, 39-41, 50-52, 

74-75 
Sheppard Lee, 93-96 
Smithsonian Institution, 126, 

127, 132, 133 
Snowden's Magazine, 23, 76 
Southern Literary Messenger, 

100-101, no 
Spirit of the Reeds, The, 35 
Stone, John Augustus, 37, 60- 

61, 70 

Teaching, 123-125 

'Twas All for the Best, 26, 35 

University of Pennsylvania, 
23-27, 29, no 

Van Dyke, Dorcas, 8, 9, 108, 

109 
Hon. Nicholas, 5, 6, 7, 

10, 15, 17-19 
Van Leuvenigh, Elizabeth, 3, 

5,6, 16-19 

Hendrick, 4 

Zachariah, 4, 5 

Volunteers, The, 34 

Wetmore, Prosper M., 37, 57 
Whig Party, The, 125, 126, 127, 

128, 129 
Willis, Nathaniel Parker, 90, 

91 



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